Maneem
by HeCallsMeHisChild
Summary: Resilience Saga, story 1: Betrayed by my leaders. Captured by the enemy. Set free on their terms. Threatened with torture. The feeling of helplessness churns my squeedly spooch. But I am Zim, and I will not be conquered.
1. Prologue

Zim watched the gavel slam down, his face closed, unreadable. Dib's jaw was slack in disbelief, and uneasy silence muffled the dying echoes of the judge's ruling.

_"Three months spent living with a family of the court's choosing. If, following that time, subject continues to display aggressive behavior toward the human race, he will be handed over to the Swollen Eyeball for their purposes."_

His eyes closed slowly, and his left antennae twitched. He knew exactly what awaited him at the Swollen Eyeball. Dib had never disguised the fact that he wanted Zim's guts strewn all over an autopsy table. The Irken clenched his fists to keep from putting a hand on his middle—the first place they would cut. He could feel the cold, hard table pressing against his back, the taste of his own sweat sliding into his mouth, the sickly sweet smell of Irken blood…

He shuddered and forced his eyes open. Dib was seething on the other side of the room, yammering something about apples and peels. _This is all his fault._

A massive hand that nearly swallowed Zim's shoulder rested on him. "Alright Marvin, get back in your cell till the family gets here."

At any other time, Zim would have leapt up and ripped the man's throat open for daring to lay a finger on him, but with his energy drained and the threat of the Swollen Eyeball hanging over him, he merely snapped, "I am Zim, you ignorant monkey. I am not Marvin, not Grinch-man, not Granny Apple, not Lilly Pad, and certainly not Kermit! I am ZIM!"

The warden rolled his eyes. "Right, whatever. Let's get going, frog-face."

Zim clenched his teeth as the man yanked on his chains. The hyuman was far taller than Zim, and used it to humiliate the small alien, hefting the chains so that Zim was forced to walk with his hands high in the air. He bit back a snarl of frustration, refusing to give any satisfaction.

Once thrown into the confines of the maximum security cell, he curled up on the cot, pressing his antennae against the cool, concrete wall to think. But coherent thought evaded him. He could think of no logical way out of the situation.

Not one year ago, his leaders had callously informed him that he had been exiled—not assigned—to Earth. Zim had wandered out of his base in a daze, minus his disguise. Dib, who had been sneaking around outside, capitalized on his enemy's shock and clamped him in sleepcuffs. But then he'd made his mistake, taking Zim to the Earth authorities instead of the Swollen Eyeball.

Months passed, with dozens of law-hyumans, doctor-hyumans, scientist-hyumans, reporter-hyumans coming to gawk and fight over him. Dib had been the worst torment, frequently visiting his cell and taunting his wretched condition. Occasionally, Zim would take out his self destruct mechanism and push it, but nothing happened. All his PAK functions except life support had been remotely disabled by the Control Brain.

Light poured into the cell, scattering his thoughts like cockroaches. He lifted his head and met the smirk of the warden with a blank expression.

"Your family's here to pick you up, Yoda."


	2. Guardians

**Note:** In this chapter, I address, briefly, inter-racial marriage. Please note that what you read is strictly what Zim's first impression is. It does not reflect my own opinion. Also, I realize that I made a blooper by saying Zim's window faced the backyard and then writing that he could see a car parked on the curb (presumably out front). But I'm not going back to fix it right now, I'm tired. It's 1:30 in the morning. Have pity on a poor, sleep-deprived soul.

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Zim glanced distastefully at his surroundings. A mattress lay on the floor, hastily made up with warm blankets. A portable heater had been pushed close to the mattress. Beige paint peeled off the wall to reveal the creamy surface underneath. A single window gave Zim a view of the backyard swimming pool. His antennae flattened. Of all the families he had to live with, of all the houses they could have chosen, they had picked one with a pool.

He sat on the mattress, startled as it gave to the pressure. He hesitated, then leaned back, cautiously. He seized the fluffed pillow and yanked it aside, alert for danger, but nothing appeared. Warily, he replaced the pillow and lay down, one antennae cocked for danger.

He'd been surprised to see how different his "guardians" were. The male specimen had skin the color of coal, and the female specimen was, what Zim had understood to be, "normal". Her frizzy brown hair stuck out in several directions, and tiny brown spots speckled her pale face. He frowned disapprovingly. Interspecies breeding was a travesty on Irk, punishable by public torture and execution of both parties. But then, he'd reminded himself sourly, this wasn't Irk. He'd silently clambered into one of their horrid transportation devices and stared ahead as if neither of them existed. They'd attempted communication with him, only to be ignored. Once they arrived at their dwelling place—a tall house that had a faint green tinge—they'd guided Zim inside and upstairs. The female had apologized for the spare furnishing, explaining they hadn't been given much notice. Zim had fixed his gaze on the window, and said nothing. Eventually they left, promising to purchase better equipment for his accommodation.

Unconsciously, his claws traveled up to his neck where a seamless iron ring hung. A parting gift from his captors, this device would track him wherever he went. There was no escape. _Curse them. Curse them all._

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"No."

The female—Della was her name—ran her fingers through her hair, her forehead wrinkled and her brows drawn together.

"No? No?!" She threw up her hands. "I give up! I made roast beef to welcome you, and you wouldn't eat. I threw together tacos, and you wouldn't eat. I baked chicken and you wouldn't eat. What will you eat?"

Her height was her advantage. Zim scowled, realizing that he was the size of a ten-year-old child in this place, and despite the fact that she was hyuman, the anxiety of not revering a taller being began to surface. Automatically, his antennae lowered in deference, but her eyes widened and she stepped back. Confused, the antennae popped back up, until comprehension dawned on the alien. She had interpreted the movement of his antennae as an aggressive posture. Perhaps that would work to his advantage—but not at the moment. His squeedly was rumbling, and despite his pride, he did need to eat. Lowering his gaze to the table, he muttered, "Waffles."

Della looked like she'd been smacked in the face. "What? What did you just say?"

Zim raised his gaze defiantly. "I said 'waffles', are your audio units impaired?"

Della's eyes flashed and she picked up a frying pan, lifting it up and down a few times, as if considering the benefits and negatives of striking Zim. A deep, rumbling chuckle interrupted the tension as Tom—the male specimen—leaned back in his chair.

"Della, behave. It's not every day we have a guest visit from such a far off place. Well… although it will be from now on." He grinned, flashing a gleaming set of teeth. "Might as well try to get along with him."

"I'd rather lock him out back for a night or two," she mumbled under her breath. Zim's antennae stiffened, catching her words. He couldn't… he _wouldn't_ be caught dead out there with so much water nearby.

Tom cocked his head to the side, eyeing him curiously. "Sorry you didn't get to meet the girls tonight, they'll be back from camping at about midnight."

Zim glanced up, questioningly. He hadn't been informed of other organisms sharing the same dwelling as he and his "guardians".

The man nodded slowly, deliberately. "Yepp, two little girls, as sweet as could be." Something changed in the man's face when he spoke of the girls. A slight turning down at the mouth, a mist obscuring the eyes, and rapid blinking. He grinned, weakly. "They don't talk much. You'll get along with them just fine."

_Whack._

Zim leaped up, overturning his seat, crouched in a defensive position. He blinked once, twice, then his eyes focused on the plateful of waffles Della had slammed down in front of him. They stared at him, Tom's eyes laughing, Della's in shock. Clenching his teeth, Zim righted the chair and set about consuming the waffles. He could heal his wounded dignity later.

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He'd left the table without another word, refusing to acknowledge them further, despite the delicious waffles. He would not be so easily bought, in fact, he would not be bought at all. He was Zim, and he was Irken. He would never stoop to the level of a hyuman. And so, he lay on the mattress, staring at the ceiling, willing it to crumble and show him how to escape.

A soft beep sounded from outside. Zim's heart quickened, and a spark of hope flared. He darted to the window, opening it. "GIR? GIR, is that you?" The hyumans had yet to find his insane companion. When last he had heard, GIR was leading several armies on a merry chase, thinking it was a giant game of tag.

He frowned as he spotted the gray van parked on the curb. Tom stood nearby, arms loaded with packages and luggages. Two small, dark forms crept out of the car, also carrying things. The three strolled to the front door, Tom's voice being the only one to break the silence, and entered. Zim shut the window, resisting the urge to shatter it. _Only the girls._ Flopping back down on the bed, he listened to the sound of feet climbing the stairs and walking down the hall. Doors opened and closed, and the nighttime swallowed all sound again.


	3. Dinner

**Note:** There's something I should make very clear right from the start. The only romance in this story is going to be between Tom and Della. There will be no Zim romance, there will be no Dib romance, and there will be no Gaz romance, if I even decide to write her into this story. There will be no romance with the previously mentioned girls, therefore if I write that Zim feels a certain way, _do not read between the lines._ Take what I write as it is written. NO ROMANCE.

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_The darkness flickered and laughed, reaching long tendrils toward him. He cowered as far from it as he could._

_"Come to me, I will make the world go away. Come, be mine."_

_"No… no, go away… I want my cold unfeeling robot arm!"_

_"Zimmmm… you are alone. Helpless." The tendrils drifted closer, wrapping around his arm…_

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He jerked away and cowered against the wall, eyes huge, legs shaking. His breath came out in gasping whimpers as he kneeled at the foot of the mattress.

Something touched him. He flinched, fearing to see what it was—_Don't be idiotic! It was a nightmare, nothing more. This is reality, and I am Zim, afraid of nothing!_—He growled, and the feeling withdrew. Raising his face, he found himself staring into two soft brown eyes. Their almond shape was accentuated by smooth, creamy skin and shapely brows. The girl—perhaps ten or eleven Earth-years old—drew back slightly, her long black braid falling over her shoulder. Her brows lifted in concern, but she said nothing.

"Who are you?" He demanded, drawing himself up. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer!"

The girl drew back, eyes wide. Zim stomped closer and stood there, towering over her huddled form. "Answer a superior being!"

Something flickered in her eyes… something familiar. He faltered, unable to place the look on her face. Suddenly she pushed herself up and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. Zim scowled. "Stupid hyumans."

He rubbed his eyes slowly, weighing his options. He could go down to the labs and—no, he wasn't in his base. He could take GIR for a—no, GIR was not here. He could try to fix his PAK… but he didn't have any tools. "How ironic. I'll die of boredom before Dib gets his filthy scalpel in me."

The door flew open, whacking him in the face. Bowled over, he fetched up against the far wall in a crooked heap. Brown frizzy hair framed an enraged face as Della snatched him up by the collar and growled, "Who do you think you are? I don't know what they consider common sense and courtesy on your planet, but on this one you don't frighten children! Mikko just ran to her room in _tears!_ What did you do?"

"Unhand Zim! I merely demanded to know her name, and she didn't answer!"

Della set him down forcefully, eyes blazing. "She barely says two words a day to _us_ and _you_ expect to get an answer?"

Straightening his uniform, Zim scowled. "What is she to you anyway?"

"She's my daughter!"

His antennae flattened. "That is a biological impossibility! You and your forevermate are different species, and your child is even more different. Even with your combined genetic information, there is no possible way you could produce a smeet like that! Why are you laughing at Zim?"

The fire had left Della's eyes, replaced by an amused sparkle. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress a grin. "You're ignorant, aren't you?"

Zim's eyes narrowed to slits as he fumed. Della ignored him. "Mikko and Tiana were adopted."

He considered this, rolling the word around in his mouth. "Ad-opt-ed. What is this?"

She regarded him soberly, and Zim couldn't help a slight interest in the rapid emotional fluctuations of this being. "Their real parents… aren't around, so we're raising them instead."

He blinked. "Not around? What happened to them?"

She pressed her lips together. "They were killed." She turned and walked out, calling over her shoulder, "If you're finished terrorizing our children, you can come down for breakfast."

"I'm not hungry!" He called down, as his squeedly spooch gave an enormous growl. Della laughed all the way down the stairs, and Zim stared balefully at his middle.

"Traitor."

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Two plates of waffles later, Zim set off to explore the house. In exactly thirty two minutes and six seconds, he had mapped the entire house—minus the room with the pink door, which was locked. His antennae drooped and he trudged around with a sullen expression. He finally settled in the den, sitting on the back of the couch, watching a show called Wonderfalls. Although it confused him horribly, it was the only slightly intelligent show on at the time.

Della passed through frequently, carrying basketfuls of soiled clothing one way, and cleaned clothing the other. Zim cocked his antennae, musing. She was different than most of the other hyumans. Tom as well. Neither of them treated him as if he were something to be feared or destroyed. Nearly every hyuman he'd met since his capture had either flinched at the flick of a claw, or had petitioned for rights to his body.

Abruptly he demanded, "Why?"

Della glanced at him, her arms full of shirts and socks. "Why what?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

She tilted her head. "Why should I be? That Membrane kid checked out the metal thing on your back and said all the harmful things were disabled, and it's not like you're some man-eating monster. You talk, you think, you feel."

He scowled. "I don't feel."

She raised a brow. "Are you so sure?" She shrugged called over her shoulder, as she left, "Dinner tonight is pot roast."

"I won't eat it."

"Meatloaf."

"I won't eat it."

"Salmon."

"I won't eat it." Abruptly he was showered with a load of clean-smelling underwear.

"Well what _will_ you eat, Mr. Picky? I am _not_ making waffles for every meal."

Zim frowned, clawing his way out of the underwear. "First, my name is Zim, not Mr. Picky. Second, I don't eat meat of any kind, because—" he paused, unwilling to reveal a weakness. "Because I just don't. And third… third…" he pointed at her, blinking, trying to think of the third thing. "Third…"

She grinned, rolling her eyes. "Third, dinner is at six, don't be late."


	4. Nightmare

**Note:** My decision to stop role-playing has driven me to distraction. I must write Zim… and if I can't play him, I'll write fanfic until my brains implode.

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He stared into the bowl, anxiety swelling in his middle. Sharply, he demanded, "What manner of food is this?"

Della's eyes narrowed. "It's called vegetable soup. It had no meat, so _you_ have no excuse for not eating it. And I'm not making you another meal until you _do_ eat it."

Anxiety switched to frustration in a heartbeat. _I can't eat this meal, it's water-based!_ He slammed a fist down on the table, and shouted, "Don't you earthlings have any edible food? I cannot eat this!"

The two girls—Mikko and Tiana—had been sitting quietly, sipping their soup. But now they clung to each other, almond eyes locked on Zim. Tiana—the younger—buried her face in Mikko's shoulder. Della had half-risen from her seat, fists clenched.

"That's enough." Tom's voice sliced through the tension. He glanced at Zim. "If you don't want to eat, then go back to your room. Now."

"Fine, I'll starve," Zim snapped, "And you'll be rid of me all the sooner." He stormed out of the dining room and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, he was halted by Della's outraged shouts.

"Tom I can't take it anymore! I don't care how much they're paying us to look after him, it isn't worth it! If I have to hear one more complaint about what food is served, I'll tear his head off!"

_Hmph. Unlikely. So that was why they agreed, they're being paid._

"Della, not now. Not in front of the girls."

Silence followed his admonition, and Zim stomped the rest of the way to the room. Once there, he slammed the door. "Filthy hyumans! Filthy planet! Filthy food!" He swung his fists, overwhelmed with a feeling of futility. "How dare they do this to Zim. They will pay, oh they will pay. They will pay with payment so unpayable, they will… they will… they…" He stopped, and lowered his head. "Who is this 'they' I speak of anyway?"

He lay on the mattress, breathing heavily. _What is this? My chest feels like an empty Voot, and my throat feels like Vort itself is stuck inside it. What is happening to me?_ He smacked his pillow, antennae flattening. _What are these feelings that I—feelings! I don't feel! I'm an Invader, I'm not supposed to feel! No—_His fumbling claws swung open the latch on his PAK and dove in, searching for one thing. He withdrew his hand, and stared at his palm. A miniscule, silver cube lay there, split nearly in half by a large crack.

_The filter… the emotion filter… how did this happen?_

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_Screaming, burning smeets flailed nearby. Could reach out and save them… but then it's death... have to stay alive. Have to break through—have to swim—diving down through cold fire—almost free—_

_Bursting out into air, skin in agony. Mouth opens in silent scream as the barrier breaks and bodies flow out—_

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He shifted, burrowing under the covers, hoping that whoever was screaming would stop. Something was shaking him roughly, and he shoved at it. It returned with more force, and he grabbed onto it, flinging the covers back to see what it was.

The moon shone through the window, illuminating Mikko, cowed by his rage. He seethed, "You dare wake Zim with your infantile screams?"

Trembling, she shook her head, and pointed at him.

"Eh? What is this? Do not point your filthy nub fingers at Zim. It was you who did the screaming, yes?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Well, if not you, then who?"

Slowly, she pointed again at him.

"You lie! You liiiiieeeeee!!!!!"

She cringed, her lip quivering. Zim paused, then growled, releasing her arm. To his surprise, she inched closer. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was having difficulty speaking. Moments passed, and she mustered one word.

"Nightmare?"

Zim shot to his feet, ready to yell his denial to the world, when he looked in her eyes. Again, that fleeting emotion he could not name that reeked of familiarity. He knew it, somehow, but not its proper name. Scowling, he sat again.

"I suppose so, what of it?"

Hesitantly, she scooted up on the mattress next to him, and lowered her head, shoulders hunched with the effort of trying to speak.

"M-me too."

An image flashed through his mind. A smeet, sobbing at his feet, crying a garbled word as its life-bloods leaked out. He shook his head to clear the image away, only to see Mikko's eyes were leaking. He flinched, having forgotten that hyumans often leaked deadly water when sad or frightened. But still—he studied the room, his antennae perked for noise of any sort. No one was watching. No one was listening. Hesitantly, cautiously, he lifted his gloved hand and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"Don't leak like that, it isn't healthy. You need sleeps. Return to your slumber-palace at once, smeet, before your sibling-unit has nightmares too."

She glanced up in surprise, before wiping her eyes. She stood and glided silently out the door. He stared after her for a minute, before shrugging back into the covers and slipping into a more peaceful sleep.


	5. Power

**Note:** The rating has been changed to an M due to a racial slur in this chapter. Please read it in the context of a racist person speaking it.

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Zim stared balefully at the stack of waffles in front of him. He knew he'd be sick of it in two days, but with Della ready to lock him in the backyard, there wasn't much he could do. Grudgingly, he shoveled down forkfuls.

"What'd'ya do?"

He started, his chair scraping on the floor. The younger child stood by him, looking up. Her hair sprouted in pigtails from both sides of her head, and she clutched a ragged stuffed cat.

"Wh-what did I do? I did nothing, what do you speak of, frolicking dirt child?"

She sniffed and took a seat. "You made Mommy mad. What'd'ya do?"

He glowered. "Nothing."

"Liar."

His teeth ground together. "I can't eat the food she makes."

"But you's eatin' waffles."

"That's different."

"How come?"

"It just is."

"Oh." She stared at the table, swinging her feet. He studied her face. She definitely was a different species from her parents, and she spoke differently. He frowned, remembering how difficult it was for the older one to speak.

"Why won't your sibling unit speak to anyone?"

Tiana glanced up, brows wrinkled. "Why won't my wha--?"

He ran his claws over his antennae, annoyed with himself. _Of course. Hyumans develop so slowly. She looks to be five or six, of course she wouldn't understand larger words._ Carefully choosing smaller words, he asked again, "Why won't your… sister… talk?"

The child frowned. "Bad stuffs happened. She scared. She 'members, but I don't 'member very good, I was little." She pulled her cat closer, and looked up at the clock. "I'mma be late! Gotta go!"

"Go? Go where?"

She hopped off the chair, darting out. "Kinnergarden!"

Zim cocked an antenna, frowning. _What happened anyway?_

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"Zim."

The alien glanced up, bleary-eyed from TV watching. Tom leaned in the doorway, and made a motion with his hand. Zim frowned.

"What?"

"Come with me."

He folded his arms defiantly. "And why should I?"

The corners of Tom's mouth twitched slightly. "Because you're bored."

"Bored? Hah! The mighty Zim is never bored. I have so many things going on in my mind it would make your head explode if you knew them all."

His burly shoulders shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm headed out."

Antennae perked, Zim glanced up. "Out? Out where?"

"To work."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a mechanic."

_A mechanic! He'll have tools and parts, maybe I could fix some parts of my PAK!_ Aloud he yawned, "Well, I suppose I could come. There's nothing informative on your monitoring system." Hopping off the couch, he followed Tom out the door.

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_This is a mistake. There's nothing here I can use._ Scowling at his surroundings, Zim folded his arms. One glance at the tools hung on the walls and jammed in the drawers was enough to assure him they would do more harm than good to his PAK.

Tom hunched over an earth-vehicle a few feet away, filth and grime coating his uniform. Zim shuddered, unwilling to imagine the countless germs swarming all over the man. But Tom seemed cheerful, whistling and singing as he tinkered with an engine.

_Work isn't supposed to be fun. Why is he so happy? He's a laborer, practically a drone. He has no right to be happy, he should be miserable, complaining about his lot! It's not fair. It's not fair that he has a lowly job and he's happy, while I have—_His antennae flattened. _No, _had_ a high-ranking job, and was… was… _"Abandoned," he whispered.

"Whaddaya mean, totaled?" A surly, slurrish complaint caught Zim's attention. A squat hyuman with a rotund stomach and few hairs shouted up at Tom. "Wash jush a bender-fender, fixsh it."

Wiping his hands on a greasy rag, Tom calmly replied, "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. The insurance won't cover you because you were drunk, and the damage is more expensive than the car. Buy another."

The man muttered foul things, grating out, "I'll get you fired fer dish, dirty nigger."

The Irken found no meaning in the word, but he could tell by the way Tom's shoulders and back stiffened that it was a deep, deep insult. A small smile crept across his face. _Pheh. The round hyuman doesn't stand a chance. Tom is larger and stronger, he'll beat the man into the paving._

To his shock, Tom merely inclined his head and returned, "I'll call a tow truck for you." With that, he walked away.

Zim's jaw dropped open, and he dashed across the garage to intercept Tom. Barring his way, he spluttered, "Wh-why? You could have slaughtered him, beat an apology out of him, killed him if you wanted! Why did you let him give insult to you? Are you a coward?"

Tom paused, considering. "Nope."

" 'Nope' what?"

"Nope, not a coward."

"Th-then why?"

Another shrug. "Won't change his mind. Won't solve my problems. No point." He brushed past Zim into the office.

_Unfathomable. He doesn't lash out when insulted—how do these hyumans keep their dignity if they don't fight for it?_ Unable to keep back one last question, he blurted, "Doesn't it make you feel powerless?"

A chuckle resounded in the garage, and Tom said, " 'Power is when we have every justification to kill, and we don't.' "

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**Note:** Kudos and recognition if you can tell me what movie that last quote was from and which character said it.


	6. Burned

**Note:** Kudos to Skittles the Sugar Fairy!!! The quote was from Schindler's List, and Oskar Schindler said it. Also, since several people have told me that it was unnecessary to bump the rating up to M, I suppose I'll knock it back down to T.

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Another plate of waffles. Zim nearly groaned, but grimly kept his complaints under control. After all, he had much to think about. Della kept eyeing him, confused by his silence. Tiana kept up a steady stream of chatter about Kindergarten and how a mean boy had pulled her hair so she told teacher who put him in time out and gave her a sticker and on and on. Mikko ate in silence, as usual. Tom interjected with a question every now and then, and Della answered distractedly.

Zim also had questions swimming around in his head, but he refused to voice them. _How do these hyumans survive if they don't strike back? What happened to the girls? And if Mikko won't speak of it, what does Tiana do?_ He finished his meal quickly, and retired to his room, locking the door. He didn't want any midnight or early morning visitors.

Once again, he pulled out the little silver cube and stared at the crack. _How long?_ The tip of his claw traced the faint black line. _Things like this only happen once every million PAKs, and even then there has to be a moment of indescribable stress for even a brief shutdown of the emotion filter. But to render it completely useless… is this why I've been having nightmares?_ He replaced it and stared up at the clock hanging on the wall. If he concentrated very hard, he could track the miniscule movements of the shorter line as it moved through the numbers.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Time was of little matter to the Irken. When you have a lifespan of 1000 years, hours mean nothing.

Eleven.

Twelve.

_Screeeeeee._

Zim's body tensed. A door in the house had opened. He heard feet patter outside his window. Keeping to the shadows, he slid along the wall and peered cautiously out. He relaxed as he saw it was only Tiana, but he frowned in confusion.

Dressed in a flowing nightgown and clutching her cat, Tiana meandered around the backyard with her eyes closed. He snorted at this ridiculous action, but watched with a growing sense of unease. _Something's not right about this._

She reached the far fence and walked along it. Near the middle, she stopped, turned on her heel, and began walking straight toward the house in a path that would take her directly into the swimming pool.

An illogical sense of panic rippled through him. Gripping the edge of the window, he threw it open and ripped off the screen. He hopped up on the ledge, calculating his height and where he could land safely from a two-story leap without his PAK's spiderlegs. Tiana hadn't altered her course, and was two feet from the pool. He collected himself and sprang from the window, landing in a prickly bush. Ignoring the stinging cuts, he rolled out of the bushes just as he heard a splash. Warbled, frightened cries reached his antennae.

Without a second thought, he shoved himself to his feet, took a running leap, and dove into the frigid water.

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Della shot upright in bed, ears straining. She was sure she'd heard—there! Someone was crying… Tiana! She shook Tom. "Tom, quick, it's Tiana!" Wordlessly, he stood and rushed from the room, closely followed by his wife.

A second splash sounded. Della put her hands to her mouth. _No, not Mikko too…_ The couple burst out the back door just as Zim's head broke the surface of the pool, his mouth open in screams of agony that echoed down the street. But clutched in his arms was Tiana. Della watched, slack-jawed, as Zim kicked as hard as he could, towing Tiana to the edge of the pool. Tom reached the side closest to them, and plucked them both from the water.

Zim clawed at Tom's hands, leaving bleeding gashes. "UNHAND ZIM! AUGH! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Tom dropped him to the ground, surprised. Tiana sobbed hysterically, and pointed at Zim. His skin was no longer green, but black, and smoke rose from his twitching body in a tall, dark plume. Tom glanced at Della. "Call 'em. Now."

She turned and plunged back into the house, snatching up her phone book while scooping up the phone. _MacBells. Marcells. Meltorres. There!_ She dialed the number as if her life depended on it.

_Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri—_"What do you want?" A cranky female voice growled.

"Hi, I'm Della, I need to speak to Dib Membrane right now. It's an emergency!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Idiot." Dib mumbled in disbelief. "What possessed him?"

It had been a short, but brief struggle to haul Zim inside, thanks to the sedative-injections Dib had brought, and he'd been laid out on a blanket-covered table. Dib glanced up. "I need scissors, now." Tom obliged, and Dib immediately set to cutting off Zim's uniform. Soaked with water, it had continued eating away at his skin until Dib slowly peeled it off. "Della, Tom, the gloves. And the boots. Everything has to come off."

Della obliged, but asked, "What's the big deal? It's only water."

The boy paused and looked at her, eyes wide. "He didn't _tell_ you? Water to Irkens is like fire to humans! Like an acid! It melts and burns his skin… I can't believe he didn't say anything."

Subdued, Della pulled off the gloves as Tom handled the boots. Shortly after, Zim lay completely stripped. His blackened skin was cracked and peeling in several places, and green fluid oozed from these areas. His eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling, their shining red surfaces dulled in spots where the water had seeped in.

Dib knelt and dug in his backpack. "When they raided his base, I got first picks on the stuff. I found a bunch of green tubes and took 'em home. I analyzed them and started enhancing their properties." He pulled out a sealed tube. Grabbing the scissors, he snipped the end off and squeezed a glob of green gel onto his hand. Rubbing both his hands in it, he gently, carefully began smearing it on the alien's damaged skin. As he continued applying the gel, the bleeding slowed, then stopped. The cracks began to knit together, and small patches of green showed through the black.

Tom watched in fascination. "What's that?"

"Nanobots," Dib answered. "Microscopic robots specialized to heal by stimulating cell growth and regeneration."

"Amazing," Della murmured.

Dib finished bathing Zim in the gel, front and back. Tom pointed. "Kid, you missed a spot."

Dib glanced over and made a face. "Some parts he'llhave to get when he wakes up. You couldn't _pay_ me to do that spot." He set the half-empty tube on the counter. "Just give this to him when he wakes up. He'll know what to do. He probably shouldn't get out of bed for a day so he can heal completely, although knowing Zim, he'll try to be walking in three hours." Frowning, he added, "Don't let him near water, and don't try to feed him water-based foods. Or meat-based foods."

"What's wrong with meat-based foods?" Della demanded.

"They burn just as bad as water, but worse because meat fuses with his skin."

Della's face fell. "Oh."

Dib zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Idiot. If something like this happens again, call. I want to keep him in one piece till the Swollen Eyeball collects him."

Tom's eyes flicked up. "What do you mean? That's only if this doesn't work and he tries to hurt someone."

Snorting, Dib walked toward the door. "He's Irken. They're programmed to destroy, it's only a matter of time."


	7. Scarred

**Note: **I command you to read the Zim fic Tolerance by MissDomaYuset. I'm almost crying right now due to her fic, and am starving for her next update. Her fic can be read here: I am now depressed and I'm having a serious craving for roleplaying. I will channel this into fanfic-ing.

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_A harsh kick, and a shout to stay in line. Eyes inspect them all, searching for weakness. For defective symptoms. Must not show fear. Fear is weakness. Weakness is death. Must live, must survive. Must show them worthiness._

_A smeet whimpers, it is kicked. It crumples, sobbing. Steel will, do not look. Do not feel. Do not hear the cries of the smeet as it is dragged away. Hands roughly grab head. Do not react, do not flinch…_

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Cool, smooth hands cupped the sides of his head. Another held his claws. He felt the soft, comforting quilt and heard a voice murmuring soothing things. For a moment, he relished the moment. The security, the comfort, the—burning fire in his antennae and crotch. His eyes shot open to the discomfiting view of Della's face bent over his. His muscles tensed to spring away, but the brief movement set a new wave of pain through his lower torso. His face must have reflected it, because a moment later a tube of nanobots was shoved into his claws—which he hurriedly retracted from Tiana's grasp.

He pulled back the covers, then flung them back over himself, his face a deep shade of emerald. "OUT! OUT, BOTH OF YOU! HAVE YOU NO SHAME, ZIM IS… IS…"

"Butt naked!" Tiana chimed in, giggling. "Don' worry, We're goin' shopping for your new clothes when you're all healed."

Zim scowled. "New clothes? Bah. Who needs new clothes? Mine are perfectly acceptable."

Della fiddled with a strand of hair. "Well… about that, we had to cut them off you because they were sopping wet, and Dib said—"

"DIB WAS HERE?!"

"We didn't know who else to call! It's not like you were in any place to explain things to us."

Zim glanced from the half-empty tube to his fresh skin. He groaned in disgust. "He touched me. Horrid filthy hyuman hands all over my perfect skin." Shifting in discomfort, he amended, "Well… not _all_ over, thank Irk. Stop laughing!"

Della and Tiana quickly swallowed their laughter. Della pulled out a bundle of clothes and set them by the mattress. "We'll leave so you can dress in these. Tiana's size should fit you until we get to the store."

"I'm not wearing hyuman female clothing!"

She shrugged. "Well… it's either the shirt and pants, or a dress. But you're not going out in your birthday suit."

"Zim has no reason to sue for date of birth," he grumbled.

Della rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Just finish up and get dressed before we miss the sale." She stood, and beckoned for Tiana to follow. The girl lingered for a moment, watching Zim. Without warning, she ran over and planted a kiss between his antennae.

"Thank you."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Torment. The word did not even begin to describe the utter humiliation coursing through his being. After he had healed his more tender areas and antennae, he had unfolded his clothes and shrieked in horror. He forced himself to dress and stomped down, loudly proclaiming his utter hatred of the color pink, but no one could take him seriously when he was wearing a T-shirt that read, "I heart Barbie," and jeans with hearts and rainbows stitched all over them. After recovering from hysteria, Della had herded Mikko, Tiana, and Zim into the car.

The stares drilled through his skull. Seeing the alien in public was strange enough, but with a family and dressed in girl's clothes? He considered running the nearest sharp object through his squeedly and ending the torture. His wish to die only intensified as he caught sight of Dib, searching for a new trench coat. He shrank behind Della, but not quickly enough.

At first, Dib glanced by him, but his eyes froze and locked on Zim. His mouth opened for a moment, before he fell to the floor, holding his ribs and unleashing his mirth. Zim stormed over, intent on kicking the funny out of him, but Mikko deftly hooked her arm through his and guided him on.

Zim mumbled, "He'll get his. I'll pay him back for this."

Mikko gave a small, mischievous smile, but held her finger to her lips, as if to say, "Wait."

Della, to her credit, found regular clothing for Zim as soon as she could. Although she had to take a moment to explain the concept of underwear and socks, she was able to send him off to the changing room successfully.

Once inside, Zim peeled off the disgusting clothing at once. Eagerly, he reached for the pants, but paused. _What did she say… underwear first. Why? I suppose it doesn't matter, better do as she says._ After slipping on the underwear, he grabbed the first pair of jeans. He was confused when they slipped off his waist and fell around his ankles. _Are they supposed to do that? No, she said some of them might not fit, and to keep looking for ones that did. Silly hyumans, don't they have a measurement system for their clothing?_ He moved on.

Once he'd found a pair of jeans that fit, he looked at the pile of shirts and sweaters. Closing his eyes, he plunged a hand into the pile and pulled out an orange sweater with a high neck. Carefully maneuvering his antennae through the correct holes, he pulled it over his head. Proud of his accomplishment, he turned, and stumbled back, every muscle tense. It was another Irken! It had also stumbled back, and its red eyes locked with his. It wore the same outfit as he did even.

A moment later, he relaxed, the other Irken mimicking him. He laughed at his own foolishness. _It's one of those mirror things. I'd forgotten._ He turned a bit, looking at his choice of clothing. _It's not horrible, as earth clothing goes._

His eyes caught on the reflection of his claws, and his squeedly tightened. Harsh, pine green lines formed an intricate network of scars. He grabbed the sleeve of the sweater and pulled it up. The lines laced up his arm, becoming more jagged and irregular. Horrified, he ripped off the sweater, staring.

From neck to wrist to waist there was not an inch of clear skin. His hide was pitted and gashed, ripped and slashed by jagged, twisted, interwoven scars. _How did this happen? What did this to—_His eyes dilated, and a scream of terror ripped through the changing room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Mikko cringed, and Tiana craned her neck. Della didn't waste a second, but shoved past the security guard at the men's changing room and followed the scream to Zim's changing room. She rammed it open with her shoulder, and her heart melted.

The alien lay on the floor, curled in a little ball, arms circling his knees. His skin was a network of scars, and he shook. Without a second thought, she knelt and gathered him up in her arms, rocking him back and forth. His claws clutched at her shirt as mewling sounds escaped him.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and in the mirror, she spotted Dib. He stood behind her, taking in the scene in bewilderment.

Zim's grip tightened, and he spoke in a small, frightened voice. "Make it stop."

Della soothed, "Shhh, calm down, make what stop?"

He hid his face. "They're hitting me."

She bit her lip. "Who's hitting you? What's happening?"

"They are… the big mean ones. They pick me up and hit me on the wall. They hit me with ropes when I'm not fast. When I cry, they throw me in water."

Dib stood very still. Quietly, he murmured, "Get him out of here. I'll cover the clothes, you can pay me later."

Della nodded, and stood, cradling the alien. Refusing to dignify gawkers with so much as a glance, she beckoned the girls and left the store.


	8. Haunted

"Dun' leave me 'lone!" Zim's wide, red eyes pleaded with her. She carefully disentangled his claws from her shirt and tucked him in his bed. His already small form was dwarfed by the quilt and pillow, and he trembled.

She bit her lip. _What made this arrogant creature melt into a child?_ "Listen, Zim. I need to go talk to Dib, I'll have Mikko or Tiana come in and stay with you, okay?"

His antennae quivered, but he nodded. Reluctantly, she left the room and headed for the stairs. Figuring Dib would arrive any minute, she called for Mikko.

"Would you stay with Zim while I talk to Dib? He's scared out of his wits."

Mikko inclined her head, and swiftly glided toward Zim's room. Della heaved a sigh of relief as she heard the doorbell. She couldn't open the door fast enough, and Dib was already brimming with questions.

"Where is he? What's he doing? What's going on? What made him break down like that? What's he scared of?" He paused and drew a deep breath, handing over the orange sweater that had been left behind.

"I don't know," She stammered, "I thought you'd have the answers."

He ran a hand through his scythe-like hair. "I've never, _ever_ seen him act like this, and I've been tracking him for over three years. It... it makes no sense." He pushed his glasses up. "Listen, I've had this thought for a while... I think I can hack into his PAK."

She tensed. "What?"

"No, see, here's the thing. I've been reading his files—the parts I can translate, at least. They say a lot about the PAK, including the fact that it stores every single memory and sensation. Maybe," he shrugged, "Maybe it will help us figure out what's going on in his head."

Della wavered, tugging a lock of hair. "It won't hurt him?"

Dib shook his head. "No, he won't feel a thing."

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, not right now."

"Come on! Don't you want to find out what happened?"

A strangely protective feeling rose inside her. "I'd rather earn his trust."

...

Zim's senses began returning shortly after Mikko had come to sit with him. Her silent, calm presence gave him an anchor, and he used it to bring himself under control. He stared wordlessly at the ceiling, mortified. _What have I done... now they know I'm weak, they'll turn on me. The whole lot of them, the whole planet. They'll know I'm weak, and they'll tear me to pieces. What was I thinking... I have to get my emotion filter fixed. I have to show them I'm still strong. I have to..._

A hand wrapped around his claws. His eyes flicked up. Mikko stared down at him solemnly. Tentatively, she took hold of the quilt and pulled it down a few inches. He flinched, averting his eyes from his own scars. It had been years since he'd seen them, he'd actually forgotten. He hissed as she touched the leathery, knotted tissue. Her eyes met his, and her mouth opened slightly. A small grunt escaped as she struggled to form words.

"Bad... bad things?"

Zim's antenna twitched. "No, they were just training me, making me stronger." But the words lay bitter in his mouth. "They... they were just doing their job." His eye twitched. "It's not like they enjoyed it..." But not even he could deceive himself with the third statement. Whether it was their job or not, they _had_ enjoyed making his life a living hell.

She nodded slowly, and pointed to herself. "Bad things."

_That's right... she mentioned she had nightmares, and Della said something as well._ "What bad things?"

It flooded her face. That look he finally knew and recognized. The haunted expression of someone who had observed things no living creature should see, and experienced the terror of moment-to-moment survival.

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping its life out. She clutched her throat with one hand and her stomach with the other, emitting choking noises. Alarmed, Zim left the mattress and knelt beside her. "Can you breathe? Is your throat obstructed?" She nodded twice, then doubled over and retched violently. Recoiling in disgust, Zim scooted away from the mess, unwilling to be near her.

As he watched her struggle for a clear breath, he felt something irreversible had happened. Something binding and--dare he say it--intimate.

With a single facial movement, this strange, foreign hyuman had communicated a common ground with connections so deep, Zim could barely comprehend what had just happened.

**Note:** Sorry for the short chapter, I will try to make the next one longer. Oh, Microwaved Noodles, about your questions, don't worry, they _will_ be answered within the next couple chapters. I'd planned on answering them in this one, but I bounced a certain idea off a friend and she said that it would be moving the plot too fast. I'm trying very hard to keep this story moving at a slower pace, because inevitably I end up trying to jam everything in as fast as I can, and I hate how it's done at the end. For once, I'd like to be satisfied with one of my chapter fics.


	9. Questions

Leveling an even gaze at Zim, Della rested against the wall. Zim met her eyes coldly, even sternly, as if nothing had happened. He'd donned the orange sweater eagerly enough when she'd brought it, but now he sat in silence. She decided to start.

"I have questions."

"As do I, stink-creature of frizzled-wire-hair."

Ignoring his comment, she continued. "We'll talk then. I get to ask a question, which you answer. Then you get to ask a question, which I'll answer. We'll take turns, okay?"

His eyes bored into hers. "Maybe. If Zim deigns to respond. But I ask questions first."

Della raised an eyebrow, but held her peace.

"Mikko and Tiana--what place are they from, and what species are they?"

A bit confused, she replied, "They're from a country called Japan, and they're human."

He was taken aback. "Hyuman? Impossible, their skin color differs and their facial features are all wrong."

She could feel her ire rising. All her married life she'd had to deal with idiots looking down their noses at her and Tom, and all her married life she'd viciously defended their relationship. Adopting two Japanese girls only added to the holier-than-thou attitudes that bombarded her, and she hated it.

As she opened her mouth to give this creature a large piece of her mind, he continued. "And your forevermate, Tom, is he not a different species as well?" Not a hint of sarcasm showed on his face. Only confusion. Della averted her eyes, ashamed. It wasn't that this creature was prejudiced--well, maybe he was--but only because he was completely ignorant.

"Look, Zim, here's the thing." Her lithe fingers traced the grooves in the hardwood floor. "Every being you see that stands on two legs, has emotions, thinks, and speaks is human. However, apart from that, we don't look and act the same. Some humans' skin is different, some have faces that are different, even the spoken language is different. Mikko, Tiana, Tom, they're as human as I am. They just come from different places. Or, in Tom's case, had ancestors who came from different places."

Zim's antennae twitched as he absorbed this information. "It would be ridiculously easy to conquer this planet, it is so divided this way."

A grin lifted the corners of her mouth. "Maybe. But history's shown we're tougher than we look. Now, it's my turn." Her lips pressed together. "Those scars, are they from the night you saved Tiana?"

The alien squirmed, uncomfortable with the topic. "How much did the Dib tell?"

"He said not to let you near water, or feed you meat."

"And he said why?"

"Naturally."

He scowled. "Stupid stink-meat. I hate him." Sighing, he grumbled, "No. The healing was so soon after the burns that Zim did not have more scarring. Now, what was Tiana doing in the backyard?"

This time it was Della who shifted. "Remember how I told you Mikko has trouble talking to people because of what happened? Well... Tiana handles it differently. She sleepwalks."

Zim raised an eyeridge. "Sleep-walks? That makes no sense. Sleeps mean hyuman brains shut down and they do not move."

Ruefully she shook her head. "Not all the time. Rare cases happen where a person will get up, in their sleep, and walk around. Sometimes into dangerous situations. You know, she can't swim. If you weren't there--"

"Yes, yes, Zim is a hero and greatness incarnate, bla, bla."

She stifled the urge to smack him upside the head. "Now, how did you get those scars?"

Zim snapped his mouth shut. "That will not be answered, hyuman female. It is none of your waxy beesness."

"Beeswax," she corrected, "Fine, then I get to ask a different question. What was that breakdown in the store all about?"

He lowered his gaze. "Bad memories, Zim was unprepared for them. But that will never happen again." His vehemence startled her, and she waited for his next question, but he did not speak. She ventured another of her own.

"Are you really programmed to destroy everything?"

His eyes flicked back up to hers, and in them lay a depth of calculated contempt and hate that chilled her.

"Why, what did the Dib tell you?"

She didn't know why she did it, or what compelled her, but she found herself outside his room, panting in fear. Cursing her nerve for deserting her, she sat on the stairs, hugging her arms. She'd read something in those eyes that frightened her more than anything she'd seen. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this creature they harbored was capable of slaughtering hundreds, perhaps thousands, without a drop of remorse.

_Capable,_ she reminded herself, _but not obliged to. Right?_

**Note:** Short chapter again, sorry. I write these mostly at 2 or 3 in the morning. Listen, you, as my readers, will be doing me a massive favor by telling me IF the plot is moving to fast, or if I'm forcing it. If I have to, and there's a consensus, I'll even go back and make changes accordingly.


	10. Thief

**Note:** For some reason the line of periods I usually denote POV shifts or passage of time isn't showing up. I'll try something else, but if it doesn't work, I'll just add an extra space.

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"I swear to Irk, I will kill you for this, Dib." The venomous tone was different than any threats Zim had ever made. Overblown, exaggerated, and pompous claims to superiority, Dib could handle. But this level, hate-filled warning gave him a sense of unease. But he couldn't pass up this opportunity, he'd staked out Zim's room all day, just like he used to. He'd waited till dark to throw pebbles at the window. The screen hadn't been replaced yet, and the noise had drawn the Irken to open the window and peer out. His head made a perfect target for Dib's paralyzing dart.

Being top-heavy, Zim tumbled head over heels into the bushes, where Dib was waiting. Stuffing a rag in his mouth, Dib had proceeded to haul Zim over to a small cart and wheeled him down the street. He didn't stop until he reached the high hill he often used to stargaze, and once there, he'd injected Zim with another doze of the paralyzing solution and unloaded him from the cart. Flipping his captive over, he'd opened up the PAK, pulled out his laptop, and begun wiring the two together.

Zim had managed to spit the rag out and utter his threat. But Dib continued.

"I mean it, Dib. You have no idea what you're doing. You have _no right_ to my private information, these are my memories you're stealing, my _life_ you thief!"

Glaring, Dib brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "It's not like you're ever going to tell me, Zim. And I have to know. So shut up and bear with it, you don't have a choice."

"This is a breach!" He hissed through clenched teeth. Again, Dib paused. There had always been an unspoken agreement between them. Killing, dissection, vaporization, exposure, humiliation. All these were fair game, but personal matters--no matter how high the rivalry escalated, each knew that one area was off limits.

"Sorry Zim," He muttered. "I gotta know." With that, he fused the final wire, and a flood of information poured into Dib's laptop. Zim dug his teeth into the ground, holding back his scream of rage. The dirt was packed and firm, but it gave under his zippered teeth, and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

_No. Not so easily._

Dib frowned at the screen. "Come on Zim, knock it off. I'm downloading the information whether you like it or not, stop blocking me."

The Irken didn't bother answering. Tentacles of hyuman electronics were prodding his defenses, and he would not let them in without a fight. His PAK sparked as he poured out a flood of electricity, hoping to fry the earth-stink's feeble computer. But his own attack hit a wall and faded. The foreign probes were looking for weaknesses... any crumbling spot... and suddenly they jammed deep into the defense, right through the cracked emotion filter. Zim screamed in rage as information was copied and sucked from his PAK. He was powerless to stop it.

Even though Dib's laptop was the best technology had to offer, it took three hours before the data stopped downloading. Occasionally, Zim would spit a foul Irken word at Dib, and Dib would check to make sure the paralyzing solution hadn't worn off. Finally, he disconnected the wires and left Zim's dangling from his PAK. "You can fix it yourself when you start moving." With that, he replaced the rag in Zim's mouth and carted him back to the house. Only then did he realize he had no way of returning Zim to his second-story room. Cursing his lack of foresight, he sighed and scratched his head. It wouldn't hurt to just leave him on the doorstep. Even if the family believed Zim, it didn't matter. Aliens had no rights yet. He yanked the rag out one last time, set Zim on the porch, and took off down the street.

"Coward!" The word echoed in the silent, early-morning calm, stabbing the boy's conscience. But some things just had to be done.

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It had been early morning. Tom had just opened the door, ready to leave for the shop, when his foot hit something soft. A groan sounded, and he looked down. Appalled, he yelled for Della to get a blanket and picked up the shivering green form. A light snow had begun to fall, and tiny burn marks speckled his face like some twisted alien version of freckles.

From Zim's delirious ramblings, Della gathered most of what happened, and she was furious. It was all Tom could do to keep her from marching down to the Membrane household and giving "that huge-headed kid" a swift kick in the pants, or worse. In the end, he convinced her to stay home by agreeing to talk to Professor Membrane about his son's actions.

Della and the girls took turns watching over Zim. Tom had estimated the time Zim had spent outside in the cold to be two hours, enough to chill his tiny frame right through. They cranked the heater up and loaded blankets on him. Della began to regret letting Tom handle the Membrane kid. There was no way in the world Dib would get the whacking he deserved.

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"Get lost, I told you he's not here."

Gaz was giving her world-famous death-glare to the giant man who'd come banging on their door. He claimed he was looking for Dib, but he'd interrupted her GameSlave tournament, and there was no way he would be getting what he wanted.

"But this is his house."

"So?"

"So..."

"Look, he's not here. If you want to leave a message, call the house phone, but get off our property." The door slammed shut, sending a small snow flurry to the ground. Gaz craned her neck and called up the stairs, "Hope you're happy, Dib. You owe me, again."

The sound of vomiting reached her ears. She frowned, but shrugged. He could clean up his own messes. She had more important things to do, like catch the boss vampire piggy.


	11. Memories

**Note:** Wow, I had no idea how that last chapter would effect everyone's view of Dib. All I have to say is, PUH-LEEEEEEZE DON'T KILL DIB! sob I'm madly in love with him... if he died... I COULDN'T GO ON WRITING!!! sniff Oh, and Tarva, thank you for that idea. I didn't think about Zim resisting, in fact, I'm going back and fixing that right now. Chapter 10 (aka Thief) is now updated with said struggle. Even though it's only a couple paragraphs extra.

Last thing, about this chapter, I do finally reveal Zim's memories. But the reason they're seen in third person is for two reasons. First, for my convenience in writing. Second, I think it's possible the PAK can shift POV so that the wearer can see themselves and exactly what they're doing, instead of purely through their eyes, or it can give the option of remembering from either perspective. Also, I know that when Zim was a baby, Miyuki was Tallest. But for the sake of this story, it's Tallests Red and Purple.

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_The warm gel encases him. A sense of peace and security enfolds his simple mind. Things move and shift, and there's a crack. He's spilled out into the cold air, too stunned to move. Something pokes a hole in his back. It hurts. Wires crawl through the hole and fuse with his spine, winding up to clasp his brain stem. The pain sends him to his feet, and he stares at the creature which birthed him._

_**Welcome to life, Irken child. Report for duty.**_

_A sense of overwhelming loyalty and adoration swells in him. He leaps up and clings to it. "I love you, cold-unfeeling robot arm!"_

_A second arm plucks him off. He flails, confused. What is going on? He's plopped on a scale. His height and weight are noted. A computerized voice intones, __**Smeet Zim is smaller than minimum requirements. Requesting transportation to nearest arena to determine smeet's adaptation level.**_

_He's whisked off through halls and rooms, dark and light. He shivers, frightened. Occasionally, he whimpers for the creature that brought him into this world, but every time he does, the little metal thing on his back gives him shocks. Finally, he arrives. Unceremoniously dropped in a sandy arena, he glances around. The only other one in it is a smeet, a little bigger than him. Farther up, watching, are two tall Irkens, dressed in red and purple. The red one yawns and nods at the two. The other smeet runs toward Zim, wicked-looking gadgets coming out of its PAK. Zim stands there, looking confused, until a sharp weapon stabs his arm. He shrieks and steps back, crying for the cold unfeeling robot arm. His other arm is stabbed, and the smeet is choking him. He squeezes his eyes shut and cries, "Stop! Make it stop!" Almost immediately, a spiderleg emerges from his PAK and slides through the smeet's ribcage. Its expression changes to a sad, confused look, then it slumps limply on the spiderleg. Zim opens his eyes and screams in terror, as the tall Irkens eat donuts, laughing and pointing._

_**Smeet Zim has been determined adaptable. Deactivation is cancelled. Enroll him in Invader training immediately.**_

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_Zim jerks awake, shivering. The top bunk he shares with Grup is colder than usual. He burrows deeper under the covers, trying to get warm, when he hears a yelp. Peeking out, he sees Grupp pointing down, where water is rushing in. Some smeets didn't wake up fast enough. They thrash in the water, agonized cries echoing in the sealed barrack. Smoke fills the upper half, making it impossible to breathe. Grupp points again, this time at the door. At the bottom, beneath the water line, is a glowing square of light._

_"We can't go through the water!" Zim squeals._

_Grup grabs his arm. "We've got no choice!" And yanks Zim down. Cold fire consumes his body. Blindly he flails toward the last place he saw the light, afraid to open his eyes. His spooch clamors for air, and the searing pain makes it hard to move. He risks a peek, seeing the light only feet away, before his eyes explode in agony. With one adrenaline-fueled thrust he tumbles through into the light, landing in the sand and rocks outside. With his first breath he thanks Irk he made it, and with his second he curses Irk he's alive. Never in his existence could he imagine pain worse than this._

_A booted foot kicks his ribs. "Up! Up! You have to clean up this mess before you go to medbay." Zim stands, shakily, his body shrieking at the effort. A small sob escapes him, and the general whirls on him, snatching him up by the collar. "Are you crying? You don't cry. Not ever. Crying is for weaklings, and weaklings end up like this." He presses his hand against the palm-lock for the barrack, and the door opens. A flood of greenish water and tiny corpses washes out. Disfigured and burned, they barely resemble Irkens._

_The general hurls Zim to the ground and barks at the surviving few, "Take this trash out to the desert. Then head over to med-bay and someone will treat you." With that, he turns and stomps off. Zim stares at the dead smeets, petrified. He knows it would have been him if Grupp hadn't made him swim. Grupp looks at him grimly, then grabs the wrists of two corpses and starts dragging them off, blood oozing from the cracks in his skin. Wordlessly, Zim follows suit._

_Hours later, the survivors straggle to the medbay. Five of them drop dead on the way. Zim forces himself on, step by torturous step. The first flickers of resentment flare in his chest, and he uses it to slog onward. _I will survive.

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_Zim learns the twenty levels of punishment. Level one is denial of a whole day's rations. This in itself is deadly, as the daily routine forces the body to utilize whatever minimal nutrients it has taken in. Without food, the body turns on itself for resources. Level five is a beating within an inch of your life. Level ten is the nail-house. A trainee is locked in an iron hut, miles into the desert. The walls are covered with nails and barbed wire. The room soaks in the heat of the sun to the point where the floor, walls, and nails glow red. And slowly, the walls begin to move in. The only escape is a two-by-two window ten feet up, lined with barbed wire. Afterwards, the trainee must cross miles of desert sand to reach the barracks again._

_Level twenty punishment is the most horrendous. No Irken who survives it ever comes back the same, and they never speak of what happened. Some return with shattered nerves, jumping at every shadow or whisper. They don't last long once back in training. Others return with stone faces, never flinching, never questioning. They raise lasers to defectives heads; men, women, and smeets. They fire without the flick of an eye, and move on. And then, there are those like Zim._

_It's a regular day with routine exercises. Armed combat in arid, rocky desert, the wails of the wounded on all sides. He pops an energy cube in his lasergun and crawls forward, aiming for the "enemy's" fuel tank. Nevermind they were bunkmates and fellow trainees. Right now, they were the enemy._

_The general bellows a command and the fighting stops. He marches over and snatches Grupp by the antennae, yanking him to his feet. Zim flinches. Grupp was the only one who bothered to help Zim, and Zim returned the favor as often as he could. Grupp was weak, to weak-hearted to survive in the Elite. So whenever he slipped up, Zim would take the blame. He'd experienced punishment levels one through ten, and his skin was leather-tough from the beatings and gougings. Somehow, he survived each punishment and returned to the barracks. Grupp would tend his wounds and slip him extra rations. Zim sighs, expecting to be taking another punishment for Grupp, but the general starts shaking him._

_"You idiot! How dare you hesitate? The enemy won't hesitate for you, you should never hesitate for them!"_

_Grupp's teeth rattle. "It's just a new recruit, can't shoot to defend well enough!"_

_"You dare contradict me!" The general drags Grupp across to the enemy line. Everyone is frozen, transfixed by the scene. He shoves Grupp forward to stand in front of a shaking smeet. "Shoot it!"_

_Grupp's eyes dart around, pleading for help. They avoid his eyes. He is kicked hard from behind. "Shoot it now!" He raises his laser to point between the smeet's eyes. It is shaking in terror. Grupp's mouth twists... and he lowers the laser._

Thwip.

_He crumples to the ground, and the general holsters his weapon. Zim stares in horror, then breaks formation and runs. His heart pounds furiously and blood rushes to his head. Rage churns inside him as he leaps on the general, using his claws to slash and gouge wherever he can. The general dislodges him in a few seconds, and throws him to the ground, planting his boot on Zim's chest to hold him down._

_"That was the biggest mistake you've ever made. It's level twenty for you."_

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_Zim is shoved into a strange looking room. It's a twenty-foot square cube with no light. Whether his eyes are open or closed, the darkness is the same. But he can't shake a sense of fear growing inside. Something is wrong with this room. Something terribly wrong. Just as his thoughts finish, two triangles of red light appear at the far end of the room--or what he thinks is the far end. Distance is impossible to judge._

Ssssso. Thisss is the newessst morssssel.

_The triangles shuttered off, then on again. Apprehension becomes abject terror as he realizes he's in the same room as a Morflar. All his lessons on inter-spatial creatures bubble to the top of his mind, and the facts on Morflars hit him like speeding asteroids. They live to be 10,000 years old. They are from a higher dimension, so Irken weaponry cannot harm them. They are massively tall and powerful, capable of telecommunication. They feed solely on Irkens. The digestive process takes one hundred years as the flesh is slowly broken down. The PAK continues frantically regenerating the body, providing several years worth of nutrients for the Morflar. When the PAK functions finally wear out, the PAK itself is consumed slowly. The Irken in question is fully conscious and aware during the entire process, minus all sense of hearing, taste, smell, or sight. Only the sense of touch remains, so he feels himself being dissolved. The more raw emotion the Morflar can inspire in the victim, the more flavorful the meal._

_He cowers against the wall, legs shaking. A low, smooth laughter ripples through his mind. _It's useless, you know. You can run and hide, but in the end, you'll walk yourself straight to me. They all do. They have no choice. You're no different, Ziiiiiiiiimmmmm...

_"No! No! I won't! Get away!" He crouches, ready to dart. The eyes move nearer, but stop. Something soft brushes his arm, and he jerks away._

Zimmmm... you are alone, helplessss.

_"I want my cold unfeeling robot arm!"_

You are minnnnnnne.

_"No..."_

Food... sssssnack... morsel... your fear is wonderful, your despair is a most deliccccious scent.

_To his horror, he stands, limbs moving jerkily forward. He's delivering himself to this thing! He'll be absorbed and dissolved for a hundred years! Is this why he was born? Is this the only reason he's existed, to end up as a Morflar's meal? His walk slows, and stops. Soft tendrils wrap around his ankles and caress his arms in a macabre embrace. With a shrill cry, he yanks himself backward, stumbling away. The eyes narrow, straining forward, but nothing touches him. Stunned, he realizes it's restrained, that the only way it can claim him is if he breaks into a panicked run. He sits down and curls up in a ball, refusing to move._

_The Morflar's voice is dripping with venom. _Smart one, eh? We'll see how long you can last this way. Can't you just imagine it? I've never felt it, but I've heard my prey screaming for decades inside me. They can't hear themselves, but I can hear them. Their terror is intoxicating. Occasionally I find a true delicacy; an insane Irken. Oh those are the best. Anger, fear, and despondency, with a hint of confusion._ A slobbering sound, something is dripping. Zim is shaking, the familiar urge to bolt screaming through his body. _You are food. You are nutritious. You are a delectable mouthful.

_"No! Shut up! I am Zim! I am not food, not a snack, I am Zim! I am Zim! I am Zim!" Something in his PAK cracks, but he continues screaming.  
_

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_Hours later, he is removed from the cell. His eyes roll all around and he laughs maniacally. "I am Zim, haha, I am Zim. I am Zim, hahahAHAHA! I am ZIM!"_

_There are those who survive with shattered nerves, and those who survive to be emotionless machines. And then, there are those, like Zim, who survive with only half their sanity._


	12. GIR

**Note:** I'm sorry I haven't updated this. I got caught up in the idea of "Not Our Family" and I had to write it. Also, I'm packing to go from my home in Los Angeles to my college in Seattle. A massive change. So updates may be a bit sporadic for a while. I will try to update, but I'm leaving to drive up there this Thursday. I may or may not have computer/internet access during that time. So, ahead of time, expect updates to be rather spaced out for a while.

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It had taken both Tom and Della to restrain Zim, once he'd regained coherency. The alien shrieked in mixtures of Irkish and English all the horrible things he'd do to that, "Filthy, horrid, stink-headed, hairy baboon!" When it had finally gotten through his head that doing any of these things to Dib would land him in the lap of the Swollen Eyeball, he became sullen and refused to speak to anyone. He would sit in his room for hours at a time, staring at the wall. Tiana couldn't provoke him, no matter how hard she tried.

Mikko was the only one who managed to get through to him. Often she'd come in and sit by him. Neither would speak, but eventually Zim would sigh and rejoin the family for short periods of time. He couldn't figure out why she moved him, but assumed it had something to do with past pain such as he had. He snorted. _As if any puny hyuman could have gone through something like that._

It was raining that day. The drops slammed against the glass, chilling Zim. They reminded him of recently resurfaced memories, even though he'd drawn the shutters. He plopped on his bed, grudgingly grateful that Della had finally bought a bedframe for the mattress. Mikko had slipped in some time ago, and sat on a wooden stool in the middle of the room, hands folded in her lap. Zim regarded her with a half-lidded stare, and she returned his gaze with wary eyes.

Downstairs, something exploded. Mikko fell off the stool, shocked. Zim's antennae perked, and his jaw dropped as he heard a high-pitched scream approaching.

"MAAAAAAAAAASTEEEEEEEEEER!!!!!!!!"

The door imploded in a rain of splintered wood. Instinctively, Zim dove in front of Mikko, blocking the shards. A metallic object hurtled through the air and latched onto his head, causing him to stagger across the room.

"MASTERIFOUNDYOU!!! I was playin' tag but they was mean an' they didn't wanna play tag so I went an' found some tacos then I looked for you an' YOU WERE ON TEEVEE an' then I found where you lived an NOW I WANT TAQUITOS!!!"

The Irken stumbled around, irate. "GIR GET OFF MY HEAD! NOW! RELEASE ME OR SUFFER MY WRATH YOU SCRAP HEAP!"

With a giggle, GIR released him and slid to the floor, hugging Zim's leg. Zim couldn't help feeling a certain light-heartedness. He had missed GIR's antics. A rare smile flashed across his face, and he glanced up to introduce his minion to Mikko.

She crouched in the far corner of his room, shaking uncontrollably. She'd already been sick all over the floor, and her mouth was agape with soundless screams. A sense of dread clutched Zim's spooch. Something was horribly wrong.

Della and Tom appeared at the door, brandishing a baseball bat and metal rod respectively. Della dropped her bat and ran to Mikko. Zim shuddered as her feet squished through the piles of sick. Tom took in the situation, and raised the rod.

"Zim, step back."

Zim's antennae flattened. _Does he mean to attack Zim? I did nothing!_

"Get away from the robot!"

He glanced down at the SIR unit on his leg, content and unaware of the danger. Zim's eyes widened. "No... you can't!"

"Back away Zim!"

"No!" Zim bent over and picked up GIR, gripping him tightly. "You can't! He's mine! He's my... my friend."

Mikko let out a piercing shriek, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Della picked up her unconscious form and shot Zim a dark look before leaving the room. Zim stood resolute, clutching the last remnants of his old life closely. Blissfully ignorant, GIR put himself in sleep mode and began snoring.

Tom lowered the bar, his brows drawn down. "Disable it. Now. Turn that thing off before I do."

Zim stepped back, but knew there was nothing he could do. Flipping open GIR's head, he reached in and disconnected a wire. The bright, cyan eyes dimmed to gray, and the robot's form relaxed. Zim set him on the bed carefully, and turned to face Tom, his own anger rising.

"Alright hyuman, I demand to know what is happening. Why are you ready to destroy the property of Zim without any reason?"

Tom laughed chokingly. "No reason?" His jaw muscles tightened. "A whole group of those things landed in Mikko's village and destroyed everything in sight. Every building, every animal, every human. Mikko was only five, and she had to hide in a closet with her sister, who was only months old, as they ripped her parents limb from limb. There was a keyhole, and she saw everything."

Zim's mind reeled. _A band of SIRs on Earth? What in Irk's name happened?_ He forced his mouth to work again. "GIR would never do anything like that! He's insane, but he's harmless!"

"Tell that to Mikko!" Tom roared, throwing the bar down with a clang. "Tell it to her as she grates out two words a day. Tell it to Tiana as she sleepwalks into traffic. Tell it to that village, razed to the ground, alien!" Turning, he slammed his fist into the door frame and stomped out.

Dazed, Zim sat next to GIR, his mind repeating the information he'd just gained.

A click snapped him back to reality. Dib stood there, and he had leveled a gun to Zim's head.

"I followed GIR in." He said quietly. "Let's go for a walk, Zim."


	13. Space

**Note:** Warning, rape scene entailed in Zim's memories. Not Zim being raped, or Zim raping, but there is a rape. Warning.

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Hours had passed, and neither spoke. Zim had simply picked up GIR and walked out under the muzzle of Dib's gun. He'd been directed to Tak's old ship, which Dib had fixed up, and told to get them off-planet. He'd done so, and they'd vanished into the limitless reaches of space. Refusing to dignify his captor with a glare, he studied the control panel, fiddling with the knobs and buttons.

Finally, with Pluto in sight, Dib growled, "Say something."

Zim's antennae lowered dangerously.

Dib chuckled quietly, but his voice was trembling with fury. "You want to know why I have you here, out in space, at gunpoint. You want to kill me, but you won't, because you want to know what would drive me to do this." Zim remained silent. "You really don't know, do you?" Keeping one hand steady to aim the gun, he pulled a disc from his pocket with the other. He tossed it to Zim. "Put it up so we can both see what it has."

Zim's being quivered with murderous rage. He could almost taste Dib's blood, hot and steaming as his muscular jaws ripped out the pitiful hyuman's vitals, could almost hear the anguished screams and pleas of his victim. He snatched the disc and jammed it into a slot. As soon as the screen filled with his memories, the alien groaned. _Of course. Only Dib would be this cruel._

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_Despite his lack of full sanity, Zim survives Elite training, and graduates at the top of his class. Out of the 1,437 smeets that had entered, only a hundred survive. Zim is placed, temporarily, in charge of the royal laboratory, due to his ingenuity in science and technology. He carries out orders from the Tallests without question and laughs as lower life forms writhe in pain under his experiments._

_That particular day is not good. He has fallen out of favor with the Tallests over a minor technicality, and they've demoted him. He will leave for Devastis on the next shuttle. His boots click down the hall as drones scurry about, attending to their duties. He opens the door to the main labs to find the newest life form being dragged in. A cursory glance doesn't tell him much. It is female. It has brown eyes. It stands on two legs, and clutches a bundle with two arms. It has an organ called "hair" which measures from her head to her feet, and it is a bright shade of purple._

_A mewling sounds from the bundle, and the creature holds it closer. Zim snaps his claws, and drones scuttle in. One reaches arms up for the bundle, but the female snatches it back, jabbering something. Others crowd around her, grabbing her arms and legs. The bundle is pried from her arms, and she begins struggling, yelling one thing over and over. Zim takes the bundle and peers in. It appears to be a smeet of the same species. He assumes the female is saying the smeet's name. He waves his hand dismissively, and the drones drag her off. Females of new-found species are always put into the hybrid breeding program, but he has no idea what to do with the smeet._

_He sets it on an operating table and studies it. He is amused as it seems to be studying him back. Like the female, it has brown eyes. However, its hair is jet black, and sticks up in a little tuft. Zim frowns. The tuft bothers him. He reaches out and flattens it against the smeet's skull, then pulls back. He is chagrined to see the tuft spring back up. He tries again, pressing harder. For several minutes he wars with this "hair" organ, but it never smoothes. Annoyed, he calls in his team. The smeet is strapped down, and everything is prepared, when it begins to leak. The Irkens recoil in horror as the smeet's mouth opens and loud noises come out, while its eyes overflow with deadly liquids. Zim grabs a nearby syringe and plunges it into the smeet's arm, which only intensifies the noises. However, they begin to subside, and soon it is sleeping. He assures himself he only put it to sleep to stop the leak and noise... but there had been that flicker... it is just a smeet, it shouldn't have to feel what he is going to do._

_He shakes himself, irritated by the lapse of logic. Grabbing up tools he begins work on the infant's head. Three clean cuts open the skull, and he stares into the pinkish, grayish mass that runs this creature. An idea hits him, and he barks, "Bring me that new serum, we still haven't seen what it can do."_

_A thin tube of ominous solution is handed to him, and he pours it into the brain meats, rubbing it around. At first, nothing happens. But then, there's movement. The gray mass begins pressing against the sides of the skull, stretching and rising. At first the skull holds firm, but the smeet is only one or so Earth years old, and the bones haven't hardened. Its head begins to swell, ballooning to disproportionate measures. Zim watches in delight, and places a probe in the brain meats. His eyes gleam as the readings indicate that they're gaining in mass. The smeet's brain will develop far beyond the capabilities of any of its own kind. This could mean so much for Irk, he must tell the Tallests! They will reward him, surely._

_He barks orders for the drones to monitor all progress and leaves, nearly flying toward the Tallests chambers. He bursts through the door, shouting, "My Tallests! My Tallests, there has been a breakthrough! It is incredible, it--" He cringes against the wall, nauseous._

_From the large, canopied bed, Red glares at Zim in fury. Underneath him is the female, making frightened sounds. Blood runs down her face, and her wrists are chained in place. Zim knows what happens to breeding subjects, but he never sees it._

_Red growls, "Get out."_

_Zim stumbles over himself, leaving as fast as he came. He clutches his antennae, fear pulsing through him. _He will kill me, he will kill me. I was sent to a morflar for less... no, do not feel fear. Feel anger. Feel disgust. With those you will survive._ He pulls in a deep breath, and storms back into the lab. "Sew the freakish thing up," he snaps, hurling the tube of serum against the wall. "Sew it up and send it back where it came from." His underlings stare at him as if he's lost his mind. "Do it now!" He screams, shattering a beaker._

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Zim's anger drained from his body, along with all color. His claws gripped the armrests as his eyes followed the screen.

"Well?" Dib challenged. "Well?!"

Finally, Zim turned to face his nemesis. His face registered shock and horror. "I... I..."

Dib leaped on him, abandoning the gun for his bare hands. "YOU FILTH! YOU STUPID ALIEN FILTH! ALL THIS TIME YOU KNEW IT WAS ME, DIDN'T YOU?"

Stunned, Zim was unable to dodge Dib's attack, but the second those filthy nub fingers touched his throat, he lashed out with his claws, catching Dib upside the cheek. The hyuman stumbled back, clutching his face.

In a voice no higher than a whisper, Zim said, "Dib... no. I didn't know. Most of these..." He waved at the screen, "I blocked out. I... Oh Irk..." He covered his face with his claws, antennae trembling. "I don't want this in my mind."

Dib had collected himself enough to pick up the gun again. Coldly, he stated, "We're going to Irk. You're going to take me there, and we're not coming back without my Mom."


	14. Apology

**Note:** A reminder that I'm leaving Thursday evening and, for a while after, may not be able to consistently update. So don't lynch me while I'm gone.

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The words replayed in his mind, mercilessly tormenting him. He'd had no grasp of the hyuman's language when he'd ordered the child torn from the female's arms, but now every word pounded through his brain in agonizing clarity.

_"My baby! Don't touch my baby, leave us alone! Don't any of you speak English? Please, just send us back. We didn't do anything, no! Give him back, my baby! Dib! Dib! DIB!"_

The only conceivable explanation Zim could come up with for the difference between his fifty plus years on Devastis, Conventia, and Foodcourtia and Dib's young age was the time shifts and distortions that came from traveling through wormholes. Zim's claws traveled over the controls as he calculated the location of the most likely wormhole. The computer closed off the paths to the dangerous ones and searched for any leading to Irk.

The Dib-stink had fallen asleep already, but had left the Voot computer with strict instructions to break Zim's neck if he did anything but fly them to Irk. Zim scowled as he selected the appropriate wormhole and set the ship on autopilot. Glancing over, he kicked Dib in the ribs. The hyuman yelped and sat up, glaring.

"What?!"

"Tell the computer not to touch me. I have to repair my PAK."

"What? No way. There's no way you're arming yourself, you'll kill me and head back."

Zim hissed, "There's few other things I'd rather do, but if we're going to storm a heavily guarded Irken facility armed only with that primitive excuse for a weapon you carry, this mission will end much sooner than you expect." He gritted his teeth, exhaling slowly. "Besides, I have to work on a holographic disguise for you."

"WHAT?!"

"Are your audio units impaired?" he yelled. "You think you can just walk in and request your parental unit back? You'll be shoved in a holding tube for horrible experiments before you can say 'dissection'!"

Dib's fists tightened, before he barked, "Stand down computer."

Zim turned and slipped toward the back of the Voot where he'd laid GIR. Reaching into the SIR's head, which often doubled as a storage unit for whatever caught the robot's fancy, he groped around for the emergency tools he'd hidden in there years ago.

The next few hours Zim spent taking his PAK off, fixing it, and putting it back on. His frustration at being unable to maintain vital functions for longer than ten minutes without it was evident. Even Dib restrained his sarcastic remarks, watching in fascination. Beads of gooey sweat formed on Zim's head, obscuring his vision. Grimacing, he reached up to wipe them away, when a piece of cloth was shoved in his hand. He glanced up, bewildered, as Dib buttoned his trench coat like nothing had happened. But Zim had seen Dib in his T-shirt nearly every day, and knew the scrap of cloth was from it.

"What is this for?"

Dib rolled his eyes. "To wipe your head, duh."

"And why do _you_ care?"

"I don't. But you're going to help save Mom, so I have to help you."

Zim frowned, but sopped up the sweat and returned to work. A few minutes later, three words loosed his grip on the tools.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Flabbergasted didn't even begin to describe Zim's state of mind. "What?"

"I was wrong. You were right... it was a breach. I'm not sorry I found out what I did... but I'm sorry for the way I found out." Dib's eyes were fixed on the ground. "Don't get me wrong, I still think you're alien scum, but the way I got the information... it wasn't okay."

Unable to trust his voice, Zim silently picked up his tools and continued repairs.

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The nearer they drew to Irk, the jumpier Zim became. The wormhole had transported them to the planet in just over a week. It had driven Dib mad to be forced to wait that long, but Zim had snapped that he was lucky.

"I had to travel the normal way, with GIR singing the Doom song for six months straight!"

Dib had shuddered. "I know... I skipped through that part."

One thing weighed heavily on both. It had been one of the more recent scenes from Zim's memory, and one of the more traumatic.

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_"How DARE you! I've done everything you asked. I've performed every task, survived every danger. I, Zim, practically licked your boots. How dare you exile me!"_

_His fists flail as his screams of outrage echo through the room, drawing amused chuckles from his leaders._

_Red leans forward. "I do hope you remember who's still Tallest. You're lucky we're not sending someone to finish the job, Zim. Just stay on that planet and never come back to Irk. It's simple. And if you disobey that little task--"_

_"SPLAT!" Chirped Purple, sucking on a slurpee. "No more Zim."_

_The transmission cuts, and Zim stares at the blank screen. Then, with an inhuman howl of rage, he smashes his fists through the screen, seizing wires and circuits, ripping them from their places. He repeats the motions again and again, the razor-sharp crystal edges slashing through the gloves and mutilating his claws, but he continues. His rage blocks out all pain. But as his attacks slow, he recognizes a new feeling. The feeling of everything being scooped out and left empty and raw. Unable to process this emotion, he wanders outside into daylight..._

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"They'll kill you if they catch you, won't they?" Dib questioned.

"And they'll send you to the labs if they find _you_." Zim returned.

Zim pulled a device from his pocket, the size and shape of a decorative pin. With one swift move he attached it to the lapel of Dib's coat and stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Gone was the hair, sickly skin, and thick glasses. Before him stood a young, wiry Irken with jagged antennae. The newly disguised eyes swirled, clearing slowly to reveal large chocolate orbs. Dib's clothing remained unchanged, but could easily be explained as eccentric taste in garb. The only problem was Dib's limited Irken vocabulary, and Zim fervently hoped he would be able to pass scrutiny.

The last thing he'd done was to add a DNA cloak to his PAK, rendering himself invisible to all bio-signature scanners.

Pulling the ship around to begin descent, he hesitated. During the week, Dib had let his guard down. It would be easy to restrain him and return to Earth. But something felt wrong whenever he considered this. He attempted to translate it into words. _I... I didn't know about Dib... when I came... now I know... and I can't ignore. I... have to make it right._

_Make it right? What am I saying, I owe this creature nothing!_

_Your orders separated him from his parental unit._

_It doesn't matter. Their bond is only a primitive instinct anyway. Right?_

_But..._ Images of Della and the girls flashed through his mind. _Could I do it to them?_

Eyes narrowed, he pulled back a lever and began the descent.


	15. Laboratory

**Note: **Look who's baaaaaaack! I'm finally settled in college now. Updates may still be sporadic because you can't transition 1100 miles in a few days, but at least I'm back online. I managed to finish Not Our Family, which made me happy, and I thought of another plot point for the story. Either that, or I could develop it into a sequel... I may consult with a couple of you...

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"You fool!" Zim rasped. "You do not _ever_ speak your language on Irk. You speak Irkish, or not at all!" He had Dib pinned against the wall of a small utility shed in an alley that reeked of vomit

"I was just talking to you, besides, I don't know enough Irkish to--"

"That doesn't matter! Another slip like that could get us killed!" Releasing the hyuman, he peered around, making sure no one had followed them. He turned back to Dib and punctuated his point by jabbing a claw. "I do the speaking. If you try to communicate again without my authorization, this mission will be aborted. Understood?"

Assured by Dib's sullen nod, he checked the alley one last time and eased them back into the stream of creatures on the walkway.

It hadn't taken Zim long to find a dataport and locate the Palace Laboratories. It also hadn't taken Dib too long to open his mouth and ask questions.

_Idiotic hyuman._

One thing Zim h ad been surprised to find out was that his biokey had not yet been revoked. And so, as he carefully led the way on the long path to the palace, silently thanking whatever technological blunder or resentful drone had allowed his key to remain in the database for decades.

_Maybe it wasn't a blunder._

He brushed off the thought. The Tallests thought he was rotting on Earth, they wouldn't expect him to disobey so blatantly.

His step faltered. This was the first time he was deliberately disobeying a direct order from the rulers of Irk. His antennae drooped as his shoulders slumped.

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With every step, Dib became more and more confused. First, he was no idiot. He knew he'd let his guard down several times, yet Zim hadn't taken advantage of that even once. The alien had, in fact, taken multiple measures to boost the rescue mission's chances of success. But what puzzled him the most was how Zim's trademark Irken gait was lagging. It was nearly imperceptible, but his obsession had developed a fine-tuned perception of Irken moods. He noted the limp antennae, the steps placed farther apart by a fraction of a second, and shoulders pushed down as if a monstrous load lay on them.

He'd never know the alien to act this way. Zim was losing confidence with every stride, and they hadn't even broken into the labs yet.

_What's going on in his head?_

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As soon as they were in sight of the building, Zim took care to straighten his posture and march in as if he had every right to be there. And since his biokey still said he was the head of the laboratories, drones scuttled to meet him. Admittedly, they were surprised by this new overseer, but they accepted it without question. Inwardly, Zim scoffed at their incompetence. Under him, there wouldn't have been a security breach of any sort.

"I want a full list of test subjects and their information now." He snapped, tapping his foot. Dib crossed his arms and tried to look stern and annoyed. A datapad was thrust into Zim's claws and he scanned through the lists, selecting one entry. He bit his lip, the façade slipping briefly.

_She's still in breeding._

Making note of her cell location, he barked, "Come, inspector Dem. There is a subject of interest I have to show you." Nudging Dib, he marched off down the aisle, looking straight ahead. Hurried footsteps followed him, and he began his tour of the laboratories.

According to the layout, there were four rooms to pass through before the cell blocks and suspended animation tanks were accessible. Zim dropped back and whispered to Dib, "Brace yourself. You're about to see things you've never been exposed to." He quickened his pace again, unwilling to explain himself to the rather stunned hyuman.

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Passing through the first door, Dib felt his knees weaken. All around him, on shelves and carts and nooks, stood jars of various sizes, each containing an organ of some sort. Thanks to his X-Scope, he knew the general shape of Irken organs, and he saw none of them around him. These, he realized, were the organs of _other_ species, most likely harvested in gruesome dissections. His stomach churned. Suddenly the concept of Zim strapped to an autopsy table was less than appealing.

The second room was worse than the first. Horned, furry heads mounted on machinery gasped and groaned, pleading for death. Tentacled creatures hung listlessly in greenish tanks, with gaping holes in their bodies. In the corner, a stunningly beautiful creature whose body appeared to be made up of a crystalline substance, was attached to a machine which slowly, torturously ground her into a fine powder. Her screams came out as a high, melancholy note, airy and musical. Had she not been in that situation, Dib would have thought she was singing.

In the third room, he stopped. Lining the walls were small tanks of bluish liquid, and in each one was what appeared to be a monstrous child. Some had horns, others had fins, and some even had gills. But each possessed some small trait that also identified them as Irken. And as Dib gazed on, he spotted three or four small, green girls. Antennae sprouted from under curly purple hair, and their chocolate orbs stared dully. Five chubby claws extended from their palms, and their noses were barely visible.

"Z-Zim, we gotta do something about this, these... these..."

"They're dead." Zim's voice echoed coldly. "Hybrid smeets are killed at birth and sent to the labs, if they're lucky." He gripped his own arms convulsively and muttered, "There's nothing you can do for them. Come."

"But these... I think... they're my..."

"Come!"

Reluctantly, Dib turned and followed Zim. Numbly, he realized the only reason he hadn't thrown up was because he was in a state of shock.

Zim palmed the lock for the last door and marched in, trailed by Dib. On one side of the wall stood another row of tanks, much larger, and pink. Each one held what appeared to be a female species of sentient life. Dib averted his eyes, embarrassed. Not one of the creatures was clothed. His teeth ground together. _Who do these Irkens think they are?_

_Who do _you_ think you are, isn't this what happens in the Swollen Eyeball?_

_Yeah... but not like this!_

_Are you so sure?_

"Odd," came Zim's voice. "Her assigned cell is empty. I'd better check the data again." The hair on the back of Dib's neck rose. He whipped around, a shout lodged in his throat.

Weapons drawn and aimed at the pair, a squad of soldiers tramped through the door.

"Don't move. You're under arrest."


	16. Choice

**Note:** So, there will definitely be a sequel, and I think I have the basic idea worked out. Thank you Invader Sideos and Microwaved Noodles for letting me bounce ideas off you guys. Oh, and Microwaved Noodles, yes, Tom, Della, Mikko, and Tiana will continue to be part of the stories.

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Frustration did not even begin to describe Dib's level of emotion. There'd been no fight, no struggle, not so much as an insult. Zim had simply frozen in place and allowed himself to be apprehended. Dib had considered pulling out his gun, but thought better of it. But Zim! Surely he should have done something, anything! But to just take it?

And take it Zim did. The guards spared no kick, punch, or blow to the tiny Irken's frame. On the other hand, Dib was left alone once he bared his teeth at them. Dib had all of ten minutes to fume inwardly before the platoon reached its destination.

High, glittering doors slid aside to reveal scarlet and violet twined pillars rising seamlessly from the plush, fur carpet to support twin arched domes, each displaying a range of color. On the right, a softened palette of purple hues swirling and blending. On the left, a chaotic jumble of jagged, garish shades of red. Situated on the carpet were two lounges, hovering a few inches above the ground and bobbing under the weight of the two languid Irkens lying on them.

"Hello Zim," Red smiled coldly. "The Irken who refuses to die."

With the exception of Zim's breakdown in the mall, Dib had never witnessed the alien in a more wretched state. Kneeling on all fours, he kept his eyes trained on the ground. All bravado and pride shriveled before his eyes, leaving only a husk of the creature behind.

Red's upper lip curled slightly. "Did you really think a blunder let you into a top-secret lab facility? Really, I thought you might have had a microgram of sense. I owe Purple monies now."

"Yep!" Purple beamed. "I knew he was that stupid. 500 monies for me!"

Not a twitch. Not a flicker. No reaction at all. Dib felt his control of emotion slipping. "You set us up?"

Red turned baleful orbs on the accompanying "Irken", appraising him. "Somewhat. We hoped he'd stay on that wretched planet and die, but just in case he was tempted to return and finish his pet projects, we re-entered his biokey so we could catch him, and," he intoned darkly, "to put an end to his idiocy."

No response.

Dib's voice rose in pitch. "And the cell we visited? Why was it empty?"

Red's face twisted in a positively lewd grin. "Why," he drawled, snapping a claw, "What is the specimen to you?"

A drone scuttled in, leading a miserable creature. Pale-skinned and dressed in threadbare rags, her head lolled to the side, revealing a gray and haggard face, with sightless eye-sockets staring out. Scratches and claw marks showed on her skin, some still bleeding, and long, tangled purple hair fell to her ankles.

With a shrill cry, Dib lunged forward, caught and restrained by the soldiers around him. Twisting and kicking, he shrieked, "Mom! Mom! MOM!"

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Zim chanced looking up. As Dib writhed in his captors' grip, the holographic disguise sputtered. A quick glance at the Tallests' expressions confirmed that they'd known all along, and had purposely provoked the hyuman. No doubt bio-scanners had picked up Dib's DNA signature and matched it to his Mother's the moment they'd docked.

_I was a fool not to see that._

The hologram died completely, leaving the troop of rather shocked soldiers to hold the wriggling hyuman.

The female hyuman's head turned slightly toward the screaming, eyelids straining in the grotesque imitation of blinking. Red rose from the lounge and sauntered over, idly taking from the drone the chain attached to the female's wrists. Moving his claws up her arm, he bent and slowly licked the angry, red weals they left behind on the skin. She whimpered and shrank away, but was jerked back by the chains.

Almighty Tallest Red grinned at the Earth child. "You know her?" He mocked. "Perhaps you knew her before I clawed her eyes out for resisting me."

A torrent of foul English words spewed from Dib's mouth, which only fueled Red's satisfaction.

"We'll see if you have the same things to say after a few days in the lab yourself. Oh, and Zim. Before you die, we'll allow you to finish one more project. After all, you began it."

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Zim's claws trembled as his hands rested on the familiar tools of his trade. Twisted, razor sharp, wickedly jagged cutting implements and smooth, insidiously painful electric probes. His eyes traveled to the marsh metal table, where Dib lay restrained. Stripped to the waist, he lay there, bound. He tried to put on a brave face, but his quick, gasping breaths betrayed him. He was afraid.

Part of Zim relished this, the brief feeling of power. He'd wanted to destroy the Dib for three years, and finally victory was his. His claws tightened around a tool. Yet another part of him quailed.

_It is the same test. The same life-or-death demand. The General has shoved these tools in his claws and shoves him toward the table, where a hybrid smeet lies. He remembers Grup's decision, and its heavy price. He looks down at the smeet. Decision hardens. He will not be like Grup, he will survive. He carelessly tears the smeet apart, its blood flowing down the table. It gurgles and cries._

_"Maneem... Maneem..." It is dead._

Zim's mouth opened and closed, his thoughts racing. Red and Purple stood nearby, watching. They would kill him either way. He could have a brief moment of power over Dib... but who caused the worse torment? Dib... or the leaders he'd served with all his being?

His head snapped up. He knew. He stepped over to the table, sending out a silent distress call from his PAK. Brandishing a particularly painful looking tool, he raised it high above his head. His eyes met with Dib's, and he mouthed, "Run."

At the moment GIR burst through the doors, screaming at the top of his lungs. "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTER!!!!!!!" Down swooped the tool, slicing through Dib's restraints. The alien shoved him off the table and upended it, extending his spiderlegs and lasers.

"GIR! GET THE EARTHEN FEMALE!"

"Yes, my Master!" Eyes flashing red, GIR zoomed out of the room. Zim kicked Dib in the ribs viciously.

"Up! Up on your feet now, you must flee!"

"But..."

"NO BEHINDS! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" He shoved Dib toward the door. "AUTOPILOT HOME!"

Dib barely managed a backward glance before disappearing. Zim ducked behind the table and sucked in a breath, before swinging into the open and firing with all his might.

The Tallests merely looked at him, the laser fire bouncing off their shielding. He knew the futility of his action, but he continued, venting decades of rage through his weaponry.

Annoyed, Purple snapped his claws. A bolt of laser fire pierced Zim's shoulder, sending him flying backward. His spiderlegs splayed behind him, cushioning his fall. Again, the sense of futility closed over him, and this time he surrendered.

"That, Zim," Red growled, hovering over him, "Was a big mistake."


	17. Empty

**Note:** Deepest apologies, I re-read my last chapter and saw all the typos. I went back and fixed them, and added something to the short flashback Zim had so as to avoid further confusion. Very sorry. Also, do you all realize this is the most reviews I've had on one story? I'm excited! Oh, last thing. I love fanart. I can't promise any prizes or anything, but I love fanart. D There's already one up by mippkatt: http://mippkatt.

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"Master, wakey wakey!" Zim stirred from the cold, metal floor. Bleary-eyed, he opened his transmission screen.

"GIR?"

"Master!" The infamous GIR smile, complete with tongue sticking out. Nothing could faze that robot.

"I did good, I got Earth-momma, an' we're in the ship."

"And it's going to Earth?"

"Yepp. So come out now, hide an' seek is over. I gotta knows where you are in the ship b'fore my taquitos is done!"

Zim's head bowed slightly. "GIR... I'm not on the ship."

GIR giggled. "Sure you are, silly. You followed us. Oh, my taquitos!" In a flurry of metal arms, GIR rushed offscreen. Clangs, crashes, and shattering noises accompanied his exit, but soon he returned with a plateful of something that somewhat resembled taquitos. "C'mon out now, Master. They's real good! Make you happy."

Zim swallowed. "GIR, I'm not on the ship. Go feed the Earthlings."

GIR blinked, cyan eyes going out of focus. Zim recognized this expression to mean the SIR was attempting serious thought process. A minute passed... then two... then suddenly the robot's head snapped up. "Master! We lefted you behind! Bad GIR, bad GIR, I so sorry!" He turned to the ship's controls.

"NO! GIR, NO!"

Confused, GIR turned back to the screen. "Master?"

More softly, Zim explained, "I'm not coming back, GIR." The SIR stared, uncomprehending. "You're going to live with Dib now, as long as he takes care of you. If he doesn't, you run like it's tag, okay?"

"But... Master..."

"Obey me, GIR. Obey Zim."

Behind the robot, Zim could see them. The female had her arms wrapped around the boy so tightly, it was a wonder he could breathe. In a similar manner, Dib clung to the female as if she would vanish any second. The female made sad noises, and burning liquids were pouring from the Dib's eyes. Zim shuddered, grateful he wasn't near them. But his chest constricted at the sight. There was something he was seeing that made an empty feeling inside. His entire being yearned for the empty to be filled, but he couldn't name the need. He put a hand to his chest, claws digging into the orange sweater he still wore, as if he could pull out his heart and examine it.

GIR's eyes filled with burn-liquid too, and he made sad-noises. "But Master..."

"No! No excuses, no more. You go, now!" And with that, Zim cut the transmission, and curled up in the corner of his cell, arms crossed over his chest, rocking back and forth.

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"You know, you really are lucky Zim," smirked Red, lounging on his throne. "Personally, I wanted you to enjoy hours of drawn-out torture and humiliation before your demise, but the Control Brains overruled me. Seems they want you out of the way as quickly as possible."

Again, Zim said nothing. Shackled with ancient iron chains the moment he'd been led from the cell, it was all he could do to stand upright.

Purple cocked his head to the side. "Got any last thingies to say?"

Zim's antennae lowered, but he maintained silence.

Shrugging, Purple waved his hand. "He's all yours."

Four robotic arms shot out of the walls of the Tallest's throne room and crushed the chains while two cable-like wires plunged deep into Zim's PAK, lifting him off the ground. He yelped at the intrusion and accompanying pain as the Control Brain continued with his sentence.

**One-time Invader Zim, demoted to food service drone, exiled to Earth, you have been pronounced Defective by the Tallests and the Council. Your PAK will be erased, then destroyed, and your shell will be vaporized. All recorded history of you will be found and terminated. For the good of all Irk, you are condemned to non-existence.**

Numbness closed in on the Irken's being. _Defective?_ His heart screamed denial, but his mind knew better. _Mistake. I was a mistake. Broken. The moment my PAK filter broke--even before that--I ceased to be useful to them._

**After three weeks of solitary isolation, your sentence will now be carried out. Unless, as is custom, there is someone to speak for you.**

The Tallests snickered at the joke. Had the entire population of Irk been invited to watch, no one would have said a word for Zim.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Zim's eyes flew open. Red and Purple gaped. "You're interfering with another planet's jurisdiction!"

Craning his neck as hard as he could, he caught a glimpse of three figures in the doorway. A hunched, nervous looking Dib, a tense, cautious Tom, and an irate Della, eyes flashing with undisguised rage.


	18. Maneem

**Note:** Grrr, the link didn't come out in the last chapter. Ok, for the one fanart that's up, go to deviantart and type "Maneem" in the search bar. The picture of Zim that pops up is the one. Only two things show up in the search so far, so it shouldn't be hard to spot.

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"There's a little thing on Earth," emphasized Della, "Called jurisdiction. Now, either we can talk this out, or you two jerks get the same treatment as your gun-toting buddies outside!" Sheepishly, Dib hefted a rather large water gun in explanation.

Tom laid a hand on her shoulder. "Della," he admonished, "We agreed. Civility, remember?" Scowling, Della muttered a grudging assent.

From his throne, Red thundered, "What do you fool Earthlings think you're doing, barging in here? And what jurisdiction is higher than that of Irk's Control Brain?"

**Actually,** intoned the Brain, **Interplanetary law states that another planet's court may have more right to an accused than the accused's own planet if the accused is first convicted on the other planet. Besides, ex-Invader Zim was exiled to Earth, and is therefore no longer a functioning member of Irken society.**

Zim's body convulsed in helpless fury, his fists flailing. "Stop speaking of Zim as if I were not here! I am here! And I AM Irken!"

**No. You are--**

"Don't," Zim's voice cracked. "Don't say it again--"

**Defective.**

Zim's form went limp. A sound like a wounded animal wrenched from his gut, and thick, goopy liquid splatted on the tiled floor.

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Dib's jaw dropped. _It's not possible... they don't feel... they can't cry!_ But there, in front of him, hung Zim, large gobs of... whatever it was... dropping from his face in increasing speed. Della put a hand to her mouth, and Tom's grip tightened on his own water gun, which Dib had insisted he carry.

"Hah! Look-at Zim cry! Hah! Just proves he's Defective. That's funny!" Purple sniggered.

"Look," barked Red, "He's our prisoner, and we plan to deal with him accordingly. You just go on about your business elsewhere and leave the execution to us."

**That is not what will happen.**

Red's antennae flattened in anger. "What are you talking about? You gave the sentence yourself, Control Brain!"

**That was before new evidence from off-planet surfaced. Earth-creatures, state your claims on this being known as Zim and your reasons.**

Tom stepped forward before Della could damage Zim's cause. "Well... here's how it is. On Earth, he threatened to destroy it, and this kid, Dib," he jerked his head in Dib's direction, "Was the main witness. Finally got the evidence public, and there was a huge trial and all. They--our courts--decided Zim should live with our family for three months. If it didn't work, he'd be sent to our scientists." He shrugged. "That's as far as we've got now. There's a couple'a weeks left before the deadline."

"After which time," Dib interjected, knowing his enthusiasm would be misinterpreted, "Zim will go to all sorts of different places and get cut up into little bits!" Scathed by Della's expression, he amended, "Well, that's what you Tall guys want, right?"

Purple stretched. "Let 'im go, Red. He'll go blow something up and the hyumans will kill him. And we can watch from here! It'll be fun." He beamed happily.

Reluctantly, Red grunted. "Fine. Take him. Dispose of him however you will. But if we see his face on this planet again, your entire planet will suffer the consequences."

The Control Brain retracted its wires and robotic arms, dumping the alien unceremoniously on the floor. Della rushed forward and picked up the limp form. Both Red and Purple made gagging sounds, but Red glanced up, a lascivious grin crossing his face.

"Wait a minute... I have one more accusation. What about the Earth female they stole from the breeding program?"

This time, Dib was in need of Tom's restraining hands. "You piece of alien scum, you dared touch my Mother!"

**Mother? Am I to understand, Tallest Red, that you placed a female specimen that still had young in your breeding program?** Sweat broke out on Red's forehead. **The law says you can only abduct for your experimentation single, unattached male or female specimens. Earthlings, **it ordered, **collect Zim and leave now.**

"But," spluttered Red, "How do you even know they really have a case against him on Earth?"

**The band on his neck is of foreign origin. It is a tracking device, and I sense it sending emissions toward the direction of planet Earth.**

With a small smile, Dib led the way from the throne room, leaving behind one Tallest bellowing in anger, and another carelessly chewing a donut.

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As soon as they re-entered the ship, Della laid Zim across the seat and shook him gently. "Zim, come out of it. You're safe, we got you back." The Irken curled into a tiny ball, refusing to open his eyes. "Zim, we're going home. Back to Earth. It's alright."

"Broken."

Della blinked. "What?"

"I'm broke." His smeet-voice had returned, wavering in pain. "No good... I'm broke. Def... def..." He hid his face, the goop oozing from his eyes. Della's eyes filled, but she blinked them back. Picking him up, she folded her arms around him, pressing him close.

"No."

"But--"

"No. They don't know what they're talking about. You're not broken. You're not Defective."

And for the first time in a century and a half, Zim cried the word which had been gouged from his vocabulary, the word that epitomized his deep, aching need that throbbed with every gut-wrenching sob.

"Maneem... maneem... maneem..."

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, Dib asked thickly, "Computer... what is Maneem?"

**Direct English translation: provider, nurturer, one who shelters. More common translation: Mommy.**


	19. POV

Della couldn't be coaxed into leaving Zim for the remainder of the trip. She only set him down when baser hyuman needs made themselves known, and hurried back. For his part, he told his ego and dignity to go play in a black hole for a while, and absorbed every bit of attention. He shut out every uncomfortable notion, including the fact that Dib was there, and reveled in the feeling of being cared for.

Sometimes Zim talked to her for hours, saying whatever was on his mind. A good deal of his past came to light in this manner, but she never shoved him away or recoiled in disgust, not even at the most sordid detail. Other times he would lapse into silence, drawing strength from this closeness and warmth. It was as if he had just come out of the tube, but was receiving what was needed this time. In allowing himself to behave as a smeet, that hollow space inside him began to fill. And every time he called Della "Maneem", it filled just a bit more.

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Della forced her expression to remain passive, but reeled inside. With all this creature had undergone, no wonder he'd become a mad little destruction machine. And no wonder he was so abrasive and obnoxious. That wouldn't, she vowed grimly, excuse future behavior, but at least it explained several things.

When he'd been missing a day, Della had released a sigh of guilty relief. At least he wouldn't be terrorizing the girls. But as the days passed, she fought a growing anxiety that something might be wrong. She couldn't explain it, but she the same worries she had for Mikko and Tiana grew to include Zim. These only increased in intensity when, two weeks later, a spaceship had come crashing into their front lawn. From it emerged the Membrane kid, that insane robot, and a broken wretch of a woman. Before she'd had time to strangle the kid, he'd gasped out his story and yammered that they had to go back.

There hadn't been a moment's hesitation. She and Tom had bought cheap water pistols as instructed and called in a neighbor to watch the children and take care of the strange woman.

At first, she'd been skeptical. _"Just how are we going to find him again anyway, if he's on a planet that's a week's wormhole travel away?"_

_"Easy," he assured them. "That tracking devise they fused around his neck at the beginning of the trial, I can trace it with my spaceship."_

And trace it he had, all the way to the planet he dubbed "Irk." They'd stormed through the halls, squirting whatever guards stood in their way, and burst into the ruler's chambers. One sight of the alien strung up by his metal backpack had simultaneously melted her heart and ignited her ire.

His tears, or whatever they had been, had sealed it. She didn't care what the courts concluded when returned, she didn't care if she had to wade through a sea of red tape, she would make sure her door was always open for this creature if he chose to stay near. His garbled words only underscored her decision. He was as good as family in her mind, and nobody would stand in her way.

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Tom knew Della well enough to keep out of her way. In matters of comfort, he had never been the soothing type, so he leaned awkwardly against a crate and watched the scene unfold.

The first day, even into the second, Tom stood by his righteous fury. The alien, he reasoned, was connected to a robot exactly like the ones who traumatized his little girls. Guilt by association. But then rational thinking took over, and he slowly recalled that that was the sort of idea he had to combat with every hateful, fearful, or condescending look cast his way. He'd tried to keep Della calm, but he also began to miss the alien's daily rant and rave about how things were done on his planet.

Tom had nearly exploded when the robot returned, but before he could crush it, it smiled. And not just any smile. This lump of metal smiled with its entire body and screeched, "BIGMAN!" It then proceeded to leap Tom's height and plop firmly on his head, hugging it tightly.

Deciding that the matter would be best sorted out later, he'd pried it from his head and joined Della and Dib in the spaceship. He'd felt ridiculous carrying a water gun around in a place full of high-tech gadgetry, but one or two demonstrations quickly reminded him of how important a weapon water was on Irk.

He could see the bond forming between Della and Zim. He'd seen it between her and the girls. He sighed, and began considering a life with an alien factored into the family.

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Dib didn't know what to say or think. He was completely out of his depth. He figured anything he had to say would either frighten Zim or earn him a slap, so he busied himself with the controls.

Little had gone as he'd expected. He'd managed to convince the couple fairly easily to come, and they hadn't maimed him on the way up. He counted that as a plus.

They'd arrived in the palace and quickly squirted their way through the ranks, which gave before their... well... "onslaught". He counted that a plus.

They'd gotten in and out quickly, and had left with the blessing of the Control Brain. He definitely counted that a plus.

Zim's breakdown, however, had thrown him for a loop. He knew the alien's past was bad, granted, he'd seen most of it himself. But he'd never really allowed for just how disturbed Zim himself would be by them. The biggest shock to his senses, was that somehow Zim had experienced almost exactly the same need-and-fulfillment as Dib had, only Zim's had taken place over an extended period of time.

He stared blankly at the controls.

_Was I really that off?_

A blip on the monitor showed they were approaching the end of the wormhole, and Dib, who'd managed to connect one computer to the Earth's major broadcasting networks, began flipping through channels to see if any of the stations had picked up on the "missing alien" story.

He made a small strangled noise as he stopped on one channel. "Guys," he croaked, "Guys, I think you need to see this... we've got a problem."


	20. Plans

**Note:** Sorry, short chapter, but I have a bunch of things in development. I'd stay up and lengthen this, but I've got a job interview tomorrow, so sit tight, and go look at this artwork, which was the inspiration for this entire story. Bluesoru on DeviantArt, look for her drawing "Save Me".

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"And here with us today, via hoverscreen of a hoverscreen, is none other than the big Boss of the Swollen Eyeball network, here to tell us the latest news on the missing alien identified as 'Zim'."

On the dim screen of the ship computer floated a hoverscreen depicting a floating hoverscreen. A silhouette with intense violet eyes flashed a positively hungry grin at the camera and purred, "We were contacted by a rather disturbed woman, about two weeks after the alien had disappeared. She reported that she was watching over a woman who claimed to have been abducted by aliens, and a small robot that sang the word 'doom' incessantly. A team arrived, intending to investigate, and was met by said robot."

"Did they catch it?"

The grin spread wider. "Of course. In fact, it won't be long before we start running tests on it. I expect my experts to dismantle it by the end of the month."

"What about the woman?"

The grin faded slightly. "Oh, her? We sent her to the mental institution. If we believed every alien abduction story, there wouldn't be enough of the Swollen Eyeball to investigate other claims."

Thanking the Boss for his comments, the reporter turned back to the camera. "As you know, the disappearance of the alien's guardians has also raised questions, and police have taken the two girls they adopted into temporary custody, pending their return. If they aren't heard from within a month, authorities say, they will be returned to the adoption agency and the guardians will be charged with negligence. The Boss of the Swollen Eyeball has graciously offered to adopt the girls himself, and has hinted at the possibility of a better education and future for them."

Della's face had drained of color, and every muscle in Tom's was tense. Dib stared at the screen in a daze, and Zim stood, straightening. For a brief moment more, he lingered in the serene feeling he'd rested in the past week, then relinquished it and forced himself to rise, spine straight and shoulders thrown back.

"What are you fool-beings waiting for?" Startled, they turned to him. Immediately, recognition dawned on Dib's face, and he grinned. Although Zim pulled the arrogant alien, there was a more placid, collected expression in his face, as if he knew what he was doing, and was no longer planning things on the fly. "We have three missions. Firstly, the return of these adult beings," he gestured, "to their home so their smeets will be returned. Second, the return of you, Dib-stinkling, to your home so you can explain the situation and bring back your feminine parental unit. And I..." He paused, "I will find and collect GIR." His voice dropped lower. "I expect by then to have assessed the situation and how much damage my absence has caused my image. There is one other thing I must find out as well, so you may not see me for a while."

The corners of Tom's mouth twitched in amusement. "So, that's the plan, huh?"

"Have you a better one?" Zim challenged. Tom chuckled, shaking his head. "Good, then let's begin. Dib-monkey, land the ship in an inconspicuous place for starters."

As Zim began barking orders and outlining his plan further, Della slipped to the back. She'd assumed he would stay the way he'd been, sweet and vulnerable, for a much longer time, if not permanently. Stealthily, a feeling of betrayal, irrational though it was, crept into the spot Zim had occupied minutes before.


	21. Rescue

**Note:** Thank you all for your patience, I GOT THE JOB! I'm happyful. It will bring much needed work-study revenues for me. And now, on to the story! Which I will try to make longer as penance for my delay...

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"Nobody," Zim muttered, "But nobody takes my robot and gets away with it." Gripping the 15-foot brick wall surrounding the Swollen Eyeball HQ, Zim heaved himself up and over, dropping silently to the grassy outskirts.

Zim was no fool. Recent experience had sharpened his old instincts, and he could smell a trap by the lax security that had allowed him entry. If they had been serious about keeping him out, he would have encountered serious resistance by now. But the only patrol he could see was a rather bored looking middle-aged hyuman, sitting outside the door, one finger shoved up his nose. Zim shuddered in disgust and consulted the layout Dib had given him.

_"Don't think saving Mom clears you, alien scum." Dib had threatened. "But you did do it... so... here." He'd thrust a paper in Zim's direction. "Go save that dumb robot."_

The alien grinned to himself. Perhaps the Dib wasn't quite as stinky as he'd thought. He was still stinky, of course, but no longer intolerable. But even better than the map had been the color photograph of one Dib had labeled, "Agent Darkbooty." From the photograph, Zim had been able to construct a near-perfect holographic disguise. He would have to remain silent, however, due to a lack of vocal likeness to simulate. Scowling, he traced the route he would need to take, and stuffed the map away. Turning, he smeared a tiny blob onto the brick wall, grinning to himself. This time, he wasn't walking into a trap unprepared.

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From the moment Zim slipped into the building, past the oblivious security guard, he saw everything. He almost chuckled to himself at the obviousness of the trap, but soberly reminded himself that a month ago he would not have been expecting it. Even as he inched along the deserted hallway, he reveled in the sharpness and clarity of his thoughts, something he hadn't experienced in over a century.

At every turn of the hallway, he smeared a blob of liquid, masking it as trailing his claws along the wall. His antennae twitched as he picked up the hum of security cameras tracking his movements. And there, just as he'd predicted, at the end of the vacant halls stood the transparent walls of an observation room. GIR was hanging half-way up a wall, suctioning himself in place with his mouth. Suppressing a snicker, Zim extended his spiderlegs and melted a hole in the wall with his lasers. Immediately GIR dropped from his spot and climbed through.

"Master! Master! I screamed long. They askeded how long I could scream, an' I showed 'em, then I kissed the wall!" Pulling in a deep breath, he shouted, "Chicken!!!" and ran in circles, mooing like a cow.

Annoyed by this display, Zim caught the unruly SIR by the antenna and switched him off. "Good Irk. Even if they did take you apart, they wouldn't find anything worth studying."

"Which is why we want _you_!" A voice echoed. He heard the swish half a second before he dove to the right. The net missed him by inches, plopping to the ground. A hiss from behind dropped him to the ground as six tranq darts buried themselves in the wall ahead of him. Smirking, he grabbed GIR and stood, sneering, "Is that your best?"

Murmurs of surprise reached his antennae. "Agent Mothman told us he wasn't a clear thinker, that something like this would fluster him."

Zim's lip curled. "Agent Mothman's information is outdated." With that, he lowered his head and charged forward. Behind him sounded the heavy, booted gait of heavy security.

"Cut 'im off! Cut 'im off quick!" Steps ahead warned him, and he sent transmission waves out, narrowing their range and targeting the goop he'd smeared on the nearest wall. As security closed in around him, the wall exploded, filling the air with smoke and debris. The hyumans coughed and waved their arms frantically, as if it would clear the hall faster. Zim, who had leaped up and attached himself to the ceiling by his spiderlegs, couldn't help laughing at their folly. With practiced ease he clambered along the ceiling, setting off detonations at every turn. Alarms sounded, but chaos ensured the alien went unnoticed.

Reaching the exit, he realized with a grimace that he could not so easily disperse the large force, dozens large, waiting outside. Armed and ready, their eyes were fixed on his only escape route.

Biting his tongue, he ducked back from sight and activated the holographic disguise. Within seconds, sickly, wrinkled flesh hung from his body and baggy old clothing wrapped his figure. Taking advantage of the nausea this new form evoked in him, he doubled over in a fit of coughing and burst through the doors. Instantly every weapon trained on him, but at the sight of a senior Swollen Eyeball Agent, they hesitated. Zim coughed and gagged as smoke billowed out from behind him. Wordlessly, he pointed inward, sagging against the wall of the building, as if weakened from his exertions. A few stepped forward, but paused, unsure. Growling, he realized he would have to speak.

Mustering up the raspiest, harshest voice he could conjure, he grated, "What... are you... standing there... for? Get... in... they need... help..." He sagged to his knees, waving away those who rushed to help him. "Quick... the alien..." Without further coaxing, the legion rushed inside, plunging the headquarters into more confusion. He smirked to himself as he set off the last explosion, which opened a hole in the brick wall for him. Perhaps next time, they wouldn't be so quick to underestimate him.

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"Master, why we here, so far 'way?" GIR peered around with curiosity. The area surrounding them was little more than rubble and ruin. Even the light-hearted SIR knew something was wrong with this place.

Zim stooped, examining the ground. "Because, GIR, I have to know what happened here. There were other SIRs--"

"Other ones?" GIR's eyes lit up. "Like me?"

Pausing, Zim allowed a small smile. "GIR, there's never been a SIR quite like you."

Pleased with the answer, GIR sat down and scooted closer for the rest of the story.

"For some reason, there were other SIRs here. SIRs that did repulsive--very bad--things. They destroyed--er, made very sad--lots of people and buildings. I want to know what they were thinking and why."

GIR sniffled. "But why? Why makes people sad? It's so much more fun to have happies."

Zim's mouth twitched. "I know, GIR. But not everyone agrees with you. Now, will you help me?"

The SIR grinned widely. "Yes Master!"

"Good. I need you to start looking for anything that looks like another SIR unit... or part of one."

"Okeedokee!" He grined, sticking his tongue out as only GIR could do, and scampered off over the blackened ruins of the Japanese village.


	22. Revelation

**Note:** Apologies for the wait, but I have a legitimate excuse. College. That's all I have to say. Well, that, and I was working on a painting.

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Across the scorched and tortured landscape, not a breeze blew. No birds chirped. No insect whirred. Even the ash lay thick and heavy on the ground, as if it knew it had no business stirring. In the midst of this ghastly place crouched a solitary figure. A casual glance could dismiss it as a statue. Closer inspection would call it a stuffed body. But minute clues betrayed its true nature. The slow, shallow intake of breath. The tiniest twitch of an antenna. A flicker of emotion in the blood-red eyes.

In his claws, Zim gripped the head of a SIR, staring into its dull, red eyes. He'd long since gathered the information he'd sought, but the revelation had stunned him to stillness. Even GIR, who had found the SIR head in the wreck of a building, sat subdued.

A quick viewing and interpretation of the scrambled data from its circuitry revealed all he needed to know.

_The SIRs sent to Earth had first been shipped to another Invader by mistake, while he had been sent a Megadoomer. Earth had always been their destination, they'd merely been misdirected. When the error had been discovered, the defective, insane SIRs had been rounded up and re-shipped, this time to the correct planet. But due to the time lost in transition, the package had landed on the wrong side of the planet. Unable to control impulsive behavior, they'd ravaged the village, slaughtering indiscriminately until they'd finally turned on each other._

"So," Zim's voice cracked the silence. "They were after _me_." Dropping the head in the ashes, he rose to his feet. "Come, GIR. Back to the base."

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Zim's eyes narrowed at the state of his underground laboratory. The hyumans had confiscated anything they'd deemed interesting and shiny, destroying what was left. He kicked aside a shattered piece of equipment, stalking toward the back wall. Wires hung from the spot where the DNA scanner had hung, but a swift laser blast laid open the secret supply room Zim had stocked over the years. Sitting himself down in the center of the room, he drew a box of mechanisms closer. There was so much to do...

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_Cold, clammy claws gripped her arms, holding her down as she struggled against them. Raking into her skin. Forcing her to do unthinkable things. She cried for Ivan, but he wasn't there. She cried for her children, but they'd been destroyed. She felt as if she would never stop crying in the endless dark..._

"Silence Earthen female!"

The claws... this wasn't a dream. There was a clawed hand over her mouth. Gloria Membrane trembled, fear driving rational thought from her mind. Ever since Dib had brought her back to the place he dubbed "home" and left her to wait for Ivan's return, she'd been slipping in and out of frightful dreams.

"Dib-mother, listen, listen to Zim!" The voice sounded vaguely familiar. "I don't' have much time, but there's something I have to do. Come with me."

Her cry of protest was muffled by his hand.

"I know. I know you don't trust Irkens, I know horrible things happened. But you must come. This one more thing, it will help you." He removed his hand, murmuring gently, "Zim swears, it will not cause hurt."

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Mikko had hardly slept since Tom and Della had left. The neighbor lady had been mean and bossy, and the creepy purple-haired lady with no eyes just laid down all the time. The little robot--though she knew it wouldn't hurt her--still frightened her. Then police had taken her and Tiana away, and she'd stopped trying to talk. No one had the patience to listen to her try to explain with two words at a time.

She didn't dare fall asleep; Tiana had taken to sleepwalking every night and Mikko had kept vigil. Even when Tom and Della had finally returned to claim them, neither could relax. Mikko couldn't help wondering if they'd be taken away again, and Tiana had been frightened by all the changes that had occurred.

Safely locked behind the pink door of their room, the girls snuggled in Tiana's pink canopy bed. Mikko had her own lavender bed, but more often than not, the girls chose to sleep together. The security often lulled them into peaceful slumber, but that night Tiana's dreams filled with faceless people yanking her away from their guardians while Mikko saw them torn apart by metal arms. Both girls woke, choking in tears. Abandoning further attempts to sleep, they merely held each other, taking comfort from their closeness.

It wasn't quite four in the morning when a thud from downstairs startled the girls. Tiana forced a smile. "Just Daddy, bumped somethin'." Her assertion was followed by an pained oath from below, and Tiana lost her smile. "Not Daddy."

Mikko cocked her head, listening hard. Other mutterings drifted up, and her eyes widened in recognition. Throwing off the covers, she rushed to the door, fumbling with the lock. Slippers swishing, nightgown flowing, she glided down the stairs and threw her arms around the now-familiar form. At first, it stumbled back a few paces, stunned. But cautiously, tentatively, it wrapped its arms around her, then tightened its grip.

"I missed you, smeet." Whispered Zim thickly.

Mikko said nothing, but buried her face in his shoulder. He stroked her hair awkwardly, brushing it away from her face. Her tears stained his sweater, but the material was thick enough to protect his skin.

A small hand tugged at his sleeve, and he glanced down to see Tiana. Biting his lip, he released Mikko and pulled Tiana to him, lifting her off the ground with his embrace. Legs dangling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "We missed you lots Zim. You're our big brotha! Mommy says so."

Wet globs left Zim's eyes as he set Tiana down. "I... I... I want to. But I..."

Mikko searched his eyes, understanding. She didn't know why, but Zim couldn't stay. Her head bowed as her tears streamed faster.

A claw touched under her chin, lifting it up. "I'll be back." He grinned weakly. "I promise. Zim never breaks promises."

She nodded bravely, forcing her mouth open. "Come... back soon."

With one more pat to Tiana's head, Zim dipped his head toward Mikko, and vanished through the open window.


	23. Resolution?

**Note:** A question was posed by Microwaved Noodles that I am obliged to answer. _"__So the SIRs were sent to kill Zim, eh? But weren't they sent before Zim arrived on Earth? Because with Mikko and Tiana's ages, wouldn't their parents have died about four years ago? And Zim's been on Earth three years, you said, right?"_

The truth of the matter is, the way I wrote this story, there are several things that are not feasible in terms of the time it took for them to happen. The SIRs were the ones from the IZ episode _Megadoomer_, but that would cause major problems with the time frames I set. I admit, I have a lot of trouble writing in time frames correctly, therefore I use the convenient explanation that the worm-holes and stuff really really REALLY messed things up time-wise because I'm not quite sure how to untangle such a mess and still keep certain aspects of the story the way I want them.

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"Dad, I'm telling you, it's Mom! She was kidnapped by aliens and I went and brought her back!"

Professor Membrane sighed, allowing himself to be dragged toward the house by his son. He'd long since given up trying to reason with Dib. True, he had discovered an actual alien, but his judgment was still impaired. He'd probably found some strange woman on the streets who'd dyed her hair, and clamped onto her. He bit his cheek, focusing on the pain. It was better than the ache in his chest that swallowed him every time he thought about her, and her purple hair, and her chocolate brown eyes, and her... _No! Stop thinking about it. She ran off with some bum, she wasn't abducted. That's absurd!_

"She's blind," Dib babbled on, "Cause they took out her eyes, and she had all sorts of horrible experiments done to her, but we rescued her, and she's here!"

As Dib laid a hand on the doorknob, Membrane jerked his hand away. "Stop this insanity, son, your Mother left us when you were a child with a massively disproportionate head. She is not here, she will never come back. Stop making up these fantasies and let that poor woman you dragged in off the streets rest!"

Dib's jaw dropped. "You... you still don't believe me, do you?" He pointed an accusing finger. "Even after all you've seen, after Zim being an alien and everything, you don't believe me!" His jaw clenched. "You--"

The handle turned, and Dib pulled away from it, trying to hold back his anger. As the door opened, a cautious, pale face emerged, framed by flowing purple hair. The Professor sucked in a breath, struck dumb by the impossibility staring straight at him.

"Ivan?"

He trembled. He hadn't been called by his first name in years, and that voice... the voice that had encouraged his work, comforted him when his ideas were rejected, and greeted him as he came home. He vaguely recalled a time when he came home from work every day, no matter what was on his schedule, because she was there.

And there, she reached out a hand to him, her eyes fixed on his. _It IS her!_ In a moment, he swept her into his arms, holding her close and breathing in her smell. She melted into his arms, weeping over and over, "Ivan, Ivan."

"Gloria... my Gloria."

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Dib stared dumbly at his mother. _She opened her eyes... and she had eyes. How? They were totally gone, what... how... she has eyes! EYES! Like, real eyes!_

He ran his hands through his sickle hair in confusion. Something was off. What... his eyes snagged on a track in the grass. Footprints... no, bootprints, very small bootprints, next to human footprints. Leading away from the house... then back to it. Dib's brows shot up his forehead.

_Zim?!_

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_Greetings my former guardians,_

_I regret to inform you I will not be able to accept accommodations in your dwelling further. I have much gratitude for the time you have allotted to caring for Zim. Much has been learned in this time, and much gained. However, by now you will have seen the hyuman news information. I have been deemed a threat to hyumanity due to the destruction of the Swollen Eyeball headquarters. Yes, I damaged the building. Yes, I caused explosions. But I, Zim, swear on honor that I did not harm any hyuman being. I entered to retrieve my SIR, that is all._

_All news places now say that the courts have ordered the apprehending of Zim, as well as my immediate transfer into the "care" of the Swollen Eyeball agency. I cannot stay any longer, I know what they want, and I refuse to die in such a humiliating state._

_Enclosed is a brief summary of findings you may find of interest. It concerns Mikko and Tiana, and the destruction of their village. The SIRs were sent for my destruction, not theirs. And it is not beneath the Tallests to attempt such things again. This is another reason why I must leave._

_Do not think I will not remember you, or the smeets. On the contrary, it is impossible to remove you four hyumans from my mind. So do not forget Zim, after all, this isn't the last time you will see me._

_GIR sends greetings as well, and hopes you never suffer a moosey fate._

_Farewell,_

_Ex-Invader Zim._

Tom leaned against the wall, contemplating this find. The note had been weighted down by the severed tracking ring Zim had last worn around his neck. In a few minutes, Della would wake and he would have to tell her what Zim left.

Sighing, he shook his head. Zim knew what he was talking about. The news channels buzzed with the camera feeds and aerial photographs of the explosions pluming from SE HQ, and every SE representative had a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking story to tell about how the alien nearly eviscerated them, or about its grisly fight with an old security guard who, of course, never was named. Nothing would keep the courts from turning over the "aggressor" to these vigilantes.

He sighed again, cracking his neck. "Well Zim," He muttered, "You'll have open doors here, whatever happens." He grinned. "Della would have my head if it weren't so."

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"C'mon, one more step... one more... one more... keep moving..." Panting, Dib staggered down the street, desperately pushing himself as fast as he could. "Gotta... get... to... base..." A distinct thrum filled the air, confirming his suspicions. Lifting his head, he spotted the Voot overhead. "Hey! Hey Zim! Hey!" His voice was ragged, but carried well. "Hey! Space scum, down here!"

The Voot banked sharply and zoomed down. The bubble on top lifted, revealing a narrowed set of eyes. "What do you want, earth-stink?"

Dib blinked, catching his breath. "Did you do it?"

"I did many things, ignorant fool, what 'it' do you speak of?"

"Did you fix Mom's eyes?" He growled in annoyance.

Zim relaxed slightly. "No, I did not fix her eyes, they were beyond repair. I cleaned the sockets and implanted mechanical eyes. She will be unable to view colors vividly, but she can see. Even better, she can see at night as well." He grinned. "Irken technology is billions of years beyond you, Dib. Get used to the fact that you'll never catch up."

Swallowing a retort, Dib allowed a smirk. "So, you're leaving? You don't want a tour of the Headquarters?"

Zim made a face. "What is the expression... I think I will do well enough in the class not to repeat."

Dib screwed up his face in confusion, then threw back his head and laughed. "Pass, Zim. You think you'll pass." Sobering, he mused, "So, you're leaving?"

Zim's face fell. "Yes."

Dib cocked his head to the side. "Think you'll ever go back and kick their butts?"

"Kick whose butts?"

"Your leaders."

Zim's antennae flicked. "I hadn't considered it."

"Well," Dib said slyly, "If you ever need a hand, give me a call. I'd be more than happy to go back and wring that Red guy's scrawny neck."

Zim's antennae crossed as he attempted to sort out all the expressions Dib had shoved into one sentence. Realizing his mistake, Dib sighed. "If you ever need help fighting them, find me. I want to make Red pay for what he did."

The grin returned to the alien's face. "We shall see, frolicking dirt-child."

Dib waved, and Zim saluted from the cockpit. As the bubble closed once again, GIR latched onto Zim's head and yelled, "BYE BIG-HEADED KID!!!"

With that, the Voot zoomed upward, vanishing through the clouds. Chuckling, Dib shoved his hands in his trench coat pockets and began the long walk home. He knew Zim, and he knew for sure that this wasn't the last time he'd see the Irken Invader.

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Ivan Membrane stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Reflected was a man who had aged decades in the last few hours. He could doubt his son's sanity, but he couldn't doubt his wife's story. Especially when it was backed up by physical evidence. Scars covered her entire torso and chest, and bruises spotted her body like a morbid version of connect-the-dots. Having had some medical training, he'd given his wife a thorough physical examination, and had come to other disturbing conclusions.

She had been raped. The signs were everywhere. Multiple, violent sexual assaults had been performed on her, and her uterus was in poor condition. She'd have to go in for surgery soon so it could be removed.

He slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. His beautiful, gentle Gloria--an alien's plaything for a decade... his fist clenched slowly.

"This... is unforgivable." He watched the shards fall to the ground, each one turning, twisting, reflecting back a part of his face.

"Someone is going to pay."

THE END

**Note:** Don't lynch me, just look for the sequel: Mekrelmar.


End file.
